


Jump in the Line

by A_Stressed_Cupcake



Series: Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Beetlejuice AU, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Death, Deceit is trying, Drowning, Everyone Needs A Hug, He's Baby, He's a walking trigger warning and I love him, Individual TW at the start of every chapter, Logan and Patton are good dads, Multi, Panic Attacks, Recurring TW for, Talking To Dead People, The Netherworld, Thomas is actually in this one, and Remus - Freeform, everyone is sympathetic, some people are dead, yaaaaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-01-15 15:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/A_Stressed_Cupcake
Summary: Remus is really not as bad as Virgil had anticipated.He is a little suspicious, though.Why is no one ever home?The second part of this Beetlejuice AU that has taken over my life.This time with more feels and more Remus.





	1. That Beautiful Sound

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK, BABY
> 
> TW: Remus. (unintentionally hurtful comments, disturbing trivia, possession, gore) and self-hate

Living with Remus was by far the weirdest thing Virgil’s imagination could have ever conjured. The funniest thing was that it was not his imagination at all.

It had been two days since they kicked everyone out.

In 56 hours’ time, he hadn’t seen a single trace of his dad, Remy or even the Maitlands. That last one was definitely the weirdest part: in the two weeks he’d known Roman, he hadn’t gone three hours without him coming into their room to bother him. Roman hadn’t given any signs of being scared of Remus. He had teased and mocked the demon multiple times in the one interaction he’d seen them have. Besides, Roman had a kind of hero complex. Virgil was confident that, if he perceived Remus as a danger or even a nuisance, he would do something about it, anything, even if it failed. And yet it had been radio silence from him for nearly three days.

He was less surprised about not seeing Patton and Logan, despite how worried they’d looked when he’d first summoned Remus. Neither of them came off as an active problem solver to him. 

Remus, on his part, didn’t care.

Virgil decided to ask him what was on his mind: “Hey, Remus?”

The demon swung down from the ceiling by his feet: “Yes?”

“When you kicked out dad and the guests, did you…” He turned to Remus, who looked like he genuinely had no idea what he was about to ask, “...did you kick out the Maitlands too?”

“No.” said Remus, sliding down the rail of the stairs like a water slide, “I sent them back to the attic. Wouldn’t want them to go to the sandworms, would we?”

Virgil sprang up: “You locked them in there??”

“Nope.” he was now doing a handstand on the rail.

“So why haven’t I seen them?” Virgil was confused. Not only had he not seen them, the signs of the haunting were gone altogether. No more wet carpets, cold spots, puddles in the bathroom and weird footsteps upstairs. Every sign of the Maitlands was gone from the house.

Remus shrugged: “They don’t like me. They probably don’t like you either.”

Virgil scoffed, pretending he didn’t feel like he’d just been stabbed in the gut: “Yeah, I can see why they’d want to avoid us.”

“Oh, so there’s an  _ us _ now?”

“Well, duh. There’s always an  _ us _ when you live in a haunted house.”

“That’s the spirit.” commented Remus. 

“No puns.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Virgil sighed. Remus’s comment about the Maitlands not liking him was sticking longer than expected. It whispered in the back of his mind.

_ He’s right. _

_ Roman only hung out with you because he’s a diva and you were literally the only option. _

_ Patton consoled you because he couldn’t stand your endless whining. _

_ Logan’s not a loner, he’s just avoiding you because you’re an idiot. _

Remus must’ve noticed his new buddy was having the ghost blues, because he floated up from behind Virgil and looked him in the eyes from his upside down stance: “Eh, cheer up kid: we don’t need anyone else. We don’t need Roman, you know why?”

_ I’m so going to regret this. _

“No, why?” he asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Because Romans used crushed mouse brains as toothpaste and judging by your face you don’t like that.” Remus winked and then broke into his signature laugh.

“Aw geez, I hate you.” Virgil muttered, burying his face in his hands. Now that was an image he really didn’t want to see every time he even thought about toothpaste.

“Come on, Virge. I know you love my trivia.”

“There is nothing I hate more.”

“Love you too.”

“By the way, Remus?” he called. The spirit raised his head. “What are these sandworms you keep talking about?”

“Nasty little things. Or...big things.” he laughed, “They eat spirits like them and me for breakfast.”

Virgil gulped: “Ah.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it. Hey!!” Remus clapped his hands together, “I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Yeah?” Virgil looked at him through his fingers.

“Oh yeah.” Remus nodded, picking up the house phone with a knowing grin.

Virgil smirked, standing up from the couch: “Remus, you sick bastard.”

“That’s why you hang out with me.” the demon pointed out, dialing the local pizza place’s number.

Virgil smothered his laugh into a pillow as Remus put the phone on speaker.

_ “This is Cicero’s pizza, how can I help you?” _

“Hello, I’d like to order a large pepperoni and mushroom with extra cheese for delivery.”

Remus had put on his serious voice. Virgil cracked up.

_ “Of course, what’s your address?” _

“Cherry Lane 13. The big ol’ house at the end, you can’t miss it.”

_ “What’s the name on the gate?” _

“Webb.” 

The irony of Remus sounding like a normal person for once in his afterlife while floating upside down did not escape Virgil.

_ “Your pizza should arrive in about half an hour.” _

“Great! Bye.” 

As Remus hung up the phone, Virgil finally gave up and started laughing out loud, hysterically clutching the pillow he’d previously used to muffle it. The demon followed suit, literally rolling on the floor with a laugh that sounded more like a raucous scream.

"Oh, you're evil." Virgil remarked when he finally managed to even out his breathing.

Remus just bowed in response.

He snapped his fingers, jumping up on the banister: "Oh hey, you know what would make this even more awesome?"

"What?" Virgil challenged.

"A dance number."

A fast, jazzy song came through the (unplugged) radio.

"No." Virgil deadpanned.

He wasn't the dancing type.

"Fine, I'll do it myself." Remus shrugged, "But I'm gonna need some backup dancers."

"Who are you thinking of?" the boy asked, picking at a loose thread on the pillow.

"More  ** _me_ ** !!" Remus raised his arms and jumped off the banister, swinging his hips to the beat: "Check this out. Fellas!!"

** _All we wanna do is hear that sound, all we wanna do is hear that sound…_ **

Virgil looked up. He must have been seeing double, because there was a second Remus hanging from the chandelier, bopping his head along with the rhythm. Then a third one. Then four, five, six, seven Remuses all dancing in perfect sync. He scoffed in disbelief, his eyes glued to the dancing demons in the hall as a big amused smile snaked its way onto his face. 

Remus danced just like the maniac he was, flailing his limbs around wildly and swinging like he wanted to sever his legs at the hip; all the clones followed suit, singing along to the lovely, lovely song about the sound of a scream. If someone had told Virgil this would be his life, he would have never believed them.

Lost in thought, he couldn’t stop Remus when he grabbed him by the wrists to drag him into their frenetic dance. And he danced.

Virgil was not a dancer by any stretch. The very thought of flailing and spinning around in front of anyone made him want to run for cover. And yet there he was.

Gradually, he was realizing that anything done in front of Remus was almost completely free of judgement. Remus didn’t care. He was a great believer in the art of not giving a fuck (his exact words).

Eventually, he joined in the singing as well. In the past few weeks, he’d stopped singing altogether, not even quietly, not even whispering, because he could never be sure that no one was watching him, that _Roman_ wasn’t watching him. Not to say that he always felt judged when he was with Roman, but he was definitely a judgemental person when given the opportunity. And he was such a good singer, too. Virgil just didn’t feel confident next to him.

Remus wasn’t a bad singer at all, either, but it was very obvious that he didn’t take himself nearly as seriously. Where Roman always acted like he was on a Broadway stage, Remus always acted like he was hanging out at a karaoke bar with his blackout drunk friends. There was beauty in that.

The crazy dance was interrupted only when the doorbell rang.

Virgil sank breathlessly into the couch, wheezing with laughter.

“Uh-oh!!” exclaimed Remus, as the clones chattered excitedly behind him, “I think the pizza’s here, Virgie.”

“Don’t call me that.” protested Virgil, but he got up anyway. “You wanna answer it this time?” he asked Remus, who was practically bouncing with excitement.

“More than anything!!” the demon squealed, floating three feet off the ground.

Virgil chuckled: “Okay, don’t oversell it though. Act natural.”

“Come on, kid.” huffed Remus, “You’re giving  _ me _ advice?”

Virgil watched him pass a rope around his neck and secure it to the top of the doorframe. He gave him a thumbs up and stood behind him.

When Remus opened the door, it wasn’t the pizza man standing in front of them, but rather a clean-cut man in a nice suit.

“Hello!” the man greeted, “I’m with the US census bureau. I’d like to ask you a few-  **oh my God** !!” 

The man took a step back as Remus waved at him.

He turned to Virgil with the face of someone who’s just seen a ghost (which, to be fair, he had): “How many…” he glanced at the hanging spirit, “How many  _ people _ live here?”

“Just me.” Virgil shrugged.

“O-oh…” the man smiled awkwardly, before turning back to Remus: “And you?”

“Oh, I don’t live here.” the demon shrugged. The man’s fake smile fell when Remus’s neck twisted at an unnatural angle and blood began to pour out of his eyes and mouth.

“ ** _I’m dead_ ** .” he choked out, coughing blood on the man’s face.

The census guy did not hesitate to run screaming for the hills.

Virgil and Remus were almost too hysterical to close the door.

They had barely had time to stop laughing when the pizza came.

When Virgil opened the door, he was met with a boy maybe three or four years older than him, who looked bored out of his mind.

_ Well, we can fix that just fine. _

“Pizza for Webb?” yawned the kid.

Virgil knew the drill by now. “Hey, what’d you order?” he asked Remus.

“Pepperoni, mushroom and a live octopus.” The spirit grinned.

“A  _ what _ ?” scoffed the kid, lifting the lid on the pizza box just enough to peek inside. 

He screeched when eight nasty grey tentacles wrapped around his head and neck, he flailed his arms around to try and get rid of the octopus. He passed out when the little guy gave him a slimy octopus kiss. Virgil hissed in sympathy, but it didn’t last and soon enough he was laughing along with Remus as the clones crowded around their unfortunate victim.

“Hey, hey Virgil!!” Remus waved in front of his face to get his attention: “Watch this.”

As he extended his arms towards the poor guy, Virgil watched him rise from the ground like a strange teenage version of Nosferatu. His eyes glowed a sickly green.

The kid looked at Virgil blankly for just a moment before breaking into a frantic  _ tap dance _ . A good one, too. Virgil laughed, marveling at Remus’s strange but effective cheering up methods. 

And somehow, in that frenzy of screaming and dancing, he forgot about Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, my friends :)  
I'm back with more Remus this time.  
Friendly warning!!! This act differs pretty greatly from both movie and musical, so like… look forward to that?  
Sorry to the Light Sides fans, you'll have to wait a bit :,)
> 
> My new posting schedule for this act is Thursday and Sunday :)
> 
> Comments are my life blood and I sometimes cry from joy when I read them so pls comment 
> 
> Next time: Virgil has a chance to sleep and doesn't because BOOKS


	2. Doubt Comes In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A haunting really shouldn't be that easy to get rid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Same mentions of death as in every chapter, mention of self-harm

When he went to bed that night, he was alone with his thoughts for the first time in more than 24 hours (sleep was not an option when Remus was around). It was terrifying.

Begrudgingly, he had to recognize that all the dancing and the distractions could never make him forget Remus’s hurtful comment. Thinking about it on his own, it just didn’t add up. There was no way all three Maitlands were  _ that _ good at acting like they cared about him. Why would Roman open up to him before his own parents? That sounded like a family issue Virgil shouldn’t ever have been trusted with. Then again, maybe he was just releasing pent-up issues and Virgil happened to be in the area. Patton, too, didn’t talk to him much, despite how nice he was to him when he did. The most damning evidence to Remus’s case, though, was definitely Logan. The first thing he’d done when he’d realized Virgil was about to summon Remus had been to keep Roman and Patton away from him. He would’ve liked to say that he wouldn’t have gone through with it if only one of them had tried to stop him, but that would have been a lie. Still, Logan couldn’t possibly have known that, right? His first instinct had been to protect his family, not to stop Virgil. Not to  _ help _ Virgil.

He groaned quietly. It was all just too complicated, this  _ feelings  _ business. So he’d just have to figure it out for himself. 

He snuck out of bed as quietly as he could. His most recent discovery was that ghosts could, in fact, sleep, eat and breathe, though it was all purely recreational. When Virgil had refused to do anything until he got a couple hours of sleep, Remus had shrugged and dozed off in the hallway. In mid air. It was when he was trying to walk past the sleeping spirit that he noticed something weird. Something was poking out of Remus’s shirt. It looked like the corner of a book, but he’d have to take a closer look to determine that. Great, all good, except that meant taking the book without the crazy powerful demon realizing it and deciding he didn’t like Virgil anymore. He held his breath as he snaked a hand over Remus’s arm, which was draped across his chest and sat right on the mysterious object. His heart stopped for a moment when the demon groaned, but he settled down quickly enough. After maybe three minutes of tiny baby steps, the book was finally in his hands.

He didn’t even look at it. He was too busy running away as silently as possible. Only when he was upstairs and far away from Remus did he finally stop to examine the book.

It was small and thick. The cover was an old-fashioned illustration of someone walking towards the rising (or setting?) sun in the distance. It looked peaceful, and he wouldn’t have been even remotely intrigued if not for the title.

“ _ Handbook for the recently deceased _ …” he read, “What the hell?”

Curious beyond belief, he opened the book. Or tried to, anyway. The book seemed to be stuck. And so was he, for that matter. Suddenly, there was an added layer of confusion to his already confusing life. He had a thought.

“Oh man, Logan would love this.” he muttered, before he could stop himself. He examined the cover.

He briefly considered returning it to Remus before he could notice it was missing, but the curiosity was eating him alive and he felt like Remus was trying to hide this book. Besides, he had a doubt to settle. That was why he’d come out of his room, wasn’t it?

He stared at the narrow wooden stairs that led to the attic. It couldn’t hurt to try talking to them, right? Even if Remus was right, that meant they were probably scared of incurring the demon’s wrath if Virgil commanded it. 

And so he went up. The creaky stairs did not help his rising anxiety whatsoever. It occurred to him, as he stood indecisively on the final step, that Remus had done  _ everything  _ he could to prevent him from entering the attic in those past few days. Distracting him, changing the subject, just straight-up telling him  _ I wouldn't go there if I were you _ . What if he’d lied? What if he had kicked the Maitlands out for good? He gulped as he remembered what Roman told him about their restriction to never leave the house. Suddenly, the Maitlands avoiding him didn’t sound like such a bad option.

Quietly, he turned the doorknob. No resistance whatsoever. The door creaked open.

As he peeked inside, he was met with the sight of Patton staring silently out the window. The quiet creaking of the door clearly hadn’t been enough to alert him of Virgil’s presence.

He sat there, resting his chin on the palm of his right hand. His hair glistened like silver in the pale moonlight and he seemed distracted by the night birds that swarmed the house. Presumably, they were familiar to Patton. It didn't escape Virgil how his fingertips were digging into his cheek in a way that, as he knew from experience,  _ definitely _ hurt. Ghost or not, it wasn’t pretty.

He bit his lip: “Patton?” he whispered, trying to get the ghost’s attention.

This time, he did notice. He turned to him with a soft gasp: “Virgil!!”

Now, Virgil had played out every possible scenario in his head. He’d expected to be able to get a few words in before Patton could even move. Not so.

The ghost was  _ fast _ , faster than he’d given him credit for, and soon enough Virgil was enveloped in the coldest hug he’d ever experienced. A quiet whimper escaped his lips. It felt like being encased in ice but, at the same time, it was the warmest, most genuine hug he'd received in what felt like forever. Patton didn't need to say anything, because it was obvious:  _ I'm happy to see you, I'm happy you're safe, I'm scared it won't last. _

Virgil had returned the hug without even noticing. He choked down a sob in realizing how  _ stupid _ he'd been to listen to Remus. It was all right there. They hadn't forgotten him, they didn't hate him and they weren't avoiding him. It was all too much.

Patton's chest was still, devoid of pulse or breath, and yet it was a comforting kind of stillness, just like the chill of death that always surrounded the Maitlands felt as familiar as the chill of a refrigerator by now.

Patton finally pulled away, but held onto his shoulders, and the sheer emotion in his eyes made Virgil duck his head in shame. He felt stupid for ever doubting him.

"You're okay!!" Patton exclaimed. He laughed a laugh of pure joy. "You're really okay, you're fine… you  _ are  _ fine, right?" 

Terror seemed to overcome his features once again and Virgil was quick to reassure him with a nod of his head.

Patton drew a long sigh of relief: "Thank goodness. We've been so worried…"

"You have?" Virgil blinked. He'd thought of that possibility, but having it confirmed was a different story. "Were you… Patton, were you guys locked in here?"

The ghost nodded: "You didn't know?"

He shook his head: "No, I didn't. He lied to me."

Patton seemed confused at that: "Wait, then where did you think we were?"

He didn't answer, too embarrassed to look at him.

The ghost seemed to understand. His eyes glazed over with sadness: "Don't tell me…"

"Yeah…"

Patton smiled sadly: "We didn't abandon you. I wouldn't allow that. Roman, even less so."

Virgil's breath stopped for a moment. "I'm sorry." he whispered.

"It doesn't matter now." Patton chuckled softly, shaking his head, "They'll want to see you. Roman has been so restless these past few days."

"He has??"

"Yes." the ghost nodded sadly, "He spent maybe an hour banging on the door when we got locked in. He kept telling me  _ dad, I need to help Virgil _ , and I…"

He sighed. He never finished that sentence. 

_ “I felt _ _ really bad”  _ was a probable continuation. Virgil gulped: "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Oh no, kiddo, it wasn't you who worried us. It was just that...you were alone with Remus, and, well…" he didn't finish that sentence, either. 

"I know." Virgil nodded, "He's a nutcase. It doesn't matter. I uh...I came here to-"

The door to the study slammed open.

"Virgil!!"

_ Roman. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY'RE BACK TOO NOW
> 
> I had an Empath!Patton headcanon and it may have showed a bit.
> 
> Leave comments, they always make my day!! :)
> 
> Next time: Logan is a smart cookie and Roman is a drama queen.


	3. Play with Fire...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe he stole a book from a demon.   
Oh well, not like he had anything better to do than freak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Emotional pain.

Virgil turned around.

Roman let out the longest sigh he’d ever heard: "Virgil."

He noticed that Roman wasn't floating. He was walking towards him. Virgil gulped.

His friend stopped in front of him and gently placed his hands on his shoulders, looking him up and down as if checking for injuries. When he couldn't find any, he looked Virgil in the eyes.

The boy felt compelled to break the silence after so long: "Roman, I-"

Roman evidently didn't want to listen to whatever it was he would have said, because he too felt the need to give him a bone-crushing hug. Virgil would have loved nothing more than to sass him at that moment, crack a snarky joke, lighten the strange mood that was filling up the room, but all that came out of his throat was a quiet whimper of relief (and severe rib pain).

_ He doesn't hate me _ .

Roman squealed with happiness, finally letting go of a poor gasping Virgil: "Where have you been? Did he bother you? Do I need to kill him a second time?? Spill the beans, Virgil, I need information, stat."

Virgil coughed: "You're not…. you're not mad at me?"

It was a legitimate question. His last words to him had been  _ I will never forgive you. _

Roman scoffed, crossing his arms: "I am!!!"

"Oh…" Virgil looked away. Of course it couldn't be that easy.

Patton shot his son a glance.

"Okay,  _ fine _ !!!" groaned Roman, "I'm not mad. I've been worried sick and you should know by now that I'm a drama queen. Honestly, Virge, I've had time to forgive you a hundred times over. Now answer the stupid question."

He was dumbfounded. It really shouldn't have been that easy. It couldn't have, right?

"Virgil. The question." Roman tapped his fingers on his arms like a disappointed father.

"Right, um…" Virgil searched for the right words to explain he'd been having fun scaring people half to death with a demon. "Nothing happened. It doesn't matter."

_ Nailed it _ .

Roman's eyes narrowed into thin slits: "Yeah, right."

"Really!!" he raised his hands in defense, "The worst it's ever gotten with Remus is less sleep."

"Sleep deprivation is a serious issue." warned Logan from the doorway. The point, as always, flew right over his head.

"It's an issue I've had before." shrugged Virgil, "And I mean... he's been nice to me. Kinda. In his weird, disturbing way, but he has."

All three seemed to doubt him on that, but no one addressed it. 

Roman did make a skeptical noise, though.

"But that's not why I'm here." stated Virgil, "I'm here to break you out, if I can."

Well, that was a lie. That wasn't why he'd gone there. But still, now that he had some sort of certainty that the Maitlands were good people and were genuinely trying to help him, he didn't want to leave them locked up any longer. 

"I have a few theories." offered Logan.

_ Of course you do. _

"Perfect, do you know what might be keeping you in?" he asked. Maybe he could still make it up to them. Maybe he could fix this whole  _ summoning a demon because thanks brain  _ business. They didn’t…  _ appear  _ to be hurt or angry, but people were complicated. He had to play it safe.

The Handbook was long forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Logan nodded: "I think there might be some sort of sigil or physical perimeter. Remus seems to know the afterlife well and he may know a few tricks, but locking the door doesn't sound nearly as complicated as restricting spirits to a single pocket dimension, beyond which they would end up in another. Therefore, I believe he has placed some kind of sigil."

Virgil turned to the door: "It sounds… plausible. I'll check."

He opened the door to look at the other side. He hadn't bothered to check for strange drawings the first time but, knowing what he knew, he noticed a thin white line that ran across the door. It looked like chalk, but honestly, he couldn't say. This was Remus's doing, after all. He curled his sleeve around his hand and tentatively rubbed away a part of the line.

He peeked inside, where Roman was finally back to floating two feet off the ground: "Hey, I erased a weird line on the door. Try leaving the attic now."

Logan hurried to the door before either of the other two could get any strange ideas and easily walked out to the stairs. "Huh. It works." he commented, with the smallest trace of a pleased smile. Whether he was proud that his theory was correct, or just happy to leave, Virgil couldn't say.

Either way, he got serious very quickly. "I need to check the rest of the house." he said, heading down the stairs.

Patton, completely unprepared and definitely not close enough to stop him, sputtered for a few seconds before making a beeline for the door. He turned to the boys and put on his Dad Voice™: "You kiddos stay here until we get back, okay?" 

They nodded.

He offered them a nervous smile and ran after Logan, and then they were alone.

So it was just Roman and Virgil. And the perfect silence of the attic. Awkward.

Well, not for long. The awkward scenario lasted for maybe five seconds before Roman scoffed loudly and burst into laughter. How he could always break the ice so easily was a mystery to Virgil, but a mystery he truly appreciated.

"What's so funny?" the boy asked, acting like he wasn't holding back laughter himself.

"Nothing, nothing…" Roman wiped his imaginary tears away, "It's just that I'm happy."

"Awww, Princey, don't fake cry on my account." joked Virgil. Everything was gone all of a sudden and it was just them laughing and playing, just like before. Which did nothing for his emotional confusion. He felt at ease with Remus, he felt at ease with Roman, and yet they were polar opposites. There was no way the two of them could ever settle their differences, so why did he feel a sort of bitterness at the thought of having to permanently part with one of them? It was all too complicated for him. Although, if it came down to it, he would probably have chosen Roman. While there was an undeniable beauty to Remus's chaos, it also meant he had a moral compass that was fickle at best and nonexistent at worst. He just couldn't feel safe with him.

Roman was an idiot (he said it with confidence), but at least he had clear boundaries. Clearer than Remus, anyway. The most damning evidence against Remus, though, remained Logan's behaviour. He came off as cautious in general, he was walking on eggshells around the living and around anything potentially troublesome. He always seemed to carefully calculate the risk and reward of each decision, thinking as long as it took to find the best solution. Not so much when Remus was involved. Twice before he had acted on instinct. It was as if Remus's unpredictable nature wasn't leaving him any time at all to think, and that terrified Virgil, because that meant that no one there could do much against Remus if he suddenly decided he didn't like them anymore. And being unprepared against a powerful but terribly fickle demon sounded like a death sentence.

The real terror, however, came when he realized just what they may have been walking into. 

He'd stolen a demon's stuff ten minutes before. If Remus didn’t want him dead before, he probably did then.

_ Goddammit Virgil, can you get  _ ** _one_ ** _ thing right?  _ scoffed that stupid little voice in his head.

"Roman…" he choked out, pale as a corpse, "I made a mistake."

Roman frowned: "I think you're gonna have to be a little more specific if you want me to help."

"I don't think you can." Virgil admitted, producing the book from his pocket.

"What is that??" The ghost was beside him in a split second, curious beyond belief.

"The  _ Handbook for the Recently Deceased _ ." replied Virgil, clutching the book so tightly that his hands started shaking, “I don’t know what it is but Remus was hiding it.”

Roman looked at him with an incredulous (and very impressed) expression: “Virgil, you madman!” He smiled wide.

Virgil felt his throat burn: “This isn’t funny, Roman!! I stole something from a  _ demon _ !!”

“Exactly!” Roman exclaimed, “You said he was trying to hide it, right? Well, what if it’s because there’s something in here that could hurt him? Maybe we can get him to leave you alone.”

Virgil bit his lip. He didn’t exactly need Remus to leave him alone, but there were things he was curious about…

_ Just a precaution. _

“We should read it.” he said.

“Yeah!” Roman peeked out from over his shoulder.

Virgil hadn’t forgotten about his failed attempts to open the book but still he tried again. As you do.

He pulled harder. The book didn't open.

"It's stuck." he groaned, "Like all interesting books."

Roman thought for a moment: "Maybe you can't open it because it's not meant for you."

Virgil stared curiously at him: "What do you mean?"

"It's the handbook for the  _ recently deceased _ ." Roman pointed out, "You, my friend, are not dead." The ghost pried the book out of his hands, effortlessly slid a finger under the cover and opened it.

"You did it!!" Virgil sat closer: "Let's read it."

Roman flipped through the pages: "Chapter one: the Netherworld. All souls should proceed directly to the Netherworld. Wait…" he looked at Virgil, "I didn't know that!! How did I not know that?"

He shrugged: "Maybe there was a bureaucratic error like Logan said?"

"Is that what all ghosts are?" Roman laughed: "The result of a bureaucratic slip-up?"

"Maybe." Virgil bit his lip, "Or maybe someone didn't want you to find this."

"What do you mean?" Roman was floating face up about a foot from the ground, "You're not implying that-"

"Yes." The boy lied down next to his friend, "Maybe it was just Remus. I mean, it sounds to me like he knows about post mortem procedures."

" _ Post mortem procedures _ ." 

"Laugh all you want, Princey. I don't care. We should give this to Logan."

"Oh, you don't wanna do that." chirped a voice from somewhere.

Both boys sat up at the speed of sound. Remus waved at them from the ceiling: "Hi there!!"

Virgil stiffened. 

_ This is it, I’m dead. _

Remus raised his arms.

"Relax, emo nightmare. I just want my book." he shrugged.

" _ Your _ book?" Roman was floating just behind Virgil's shoulder to back him up.

" _ My  _ book." nodded the spirit, "There's some dangerous stuff in there."

"So why should we give it to you?" Virgil clutched the book a little tighter.

"Because...pretty please with cheese on top?"

"No!!" Roman crossed his arms: "You said it yourself: it's dangerous."

"As in, it's dangerous if you don't know how to use it." Remus specified: "It is definitely not safe in the hands of two kids who've never seen it before. You might end up in the Netherworld."

"Yeah, about that…" Virgil flipped through a few more pages, "I think you have some explanations to give. What is the Netherworld? Why didn't you let the Maitlands go there?"

"Yeah!!" Roman cheered.

Remus raised his hands in surrender: "Hey, I did need some help here. Also, I was lonely. Trust me, the Netherworld is much more boring than people think."

"What's down there?" Virgil asked, glancing at his friend.

"Well down here there's just my-"

"Not down  _ there _ , down in the Netherworld!" Roman groaned, red in the face.

"Well excuse me. Common misconception: the Netherworld, despite the name, is not  _ under _ anything." Remus pointed out: "So that was a legitimate mistake."

"Whatever. What's in the Netherworld?" Virgil made sure to specify this time.

The demon grinned: "Absolutely nothing."

He caught Roman shuddering in the corner of his eye. There was nothing worse for him than  _ nothing _ , nothing to do, nothing to see. A void that he couldn't fill in any way must have been his worst nightmare.

Remus seemed to notice the effect of his words. He shot the ghost a devilish grin and continued: "Everyone there is alone, everything is silent, there are miles and miles between people that they can never close. Now tell me Roman, do you still wish I'd let you go there?"

Virgil turned to his friend, who looked conflicted to say the least. Of course he didn't want to go there. Being alone, isolated, with nothing to do? That must've been the worst torture imaginable to someone like Roman. On the other hand, Virgil knew that he would rather swallow glass than admit that the demon was right. Also, they still didn't know what he wanted. Surely, he hadn't kept them from the Netherworld out of the goodness of his heart.

"What did you want with us?" Roman asked, "Why didn't you let us find the book?"

"No reason." Remus shrugged, "I needed your help back then. If I'd known Virgil would be here, I wouldn't have bothered."

Virgil did  _ not _ want to think about how he could've doomed Roman without ever knowing, thank you very much. Roman was having the same thought, judging by his face.

"So why are you still here?" Virgil asked, "I mean...I freed you, didn't I?"

"Reasons." Remus shrugged, "Mostly, I'd like to thank you for freeing me."

Immediately suspicious, he asked: "Thank me how, exactly?"

The demon smiled at him.

"I could help you bring your dad back."

His breath stopped. So did his heart, for just a moment. Virgil stumbled a few steps back, clutching the book to his chest: "Wh…what do you mean?"

"Come on, Virge." Remus laughed: "I was in the Netherworld bureaucratic department. I know how a  _ lot _ of stuff is done. What's one more living person to me?"

"You're not serious. Stop joking. It's not funny." Virgil gritted his teeth. Roman shot him a concerned glance.

"Oh, look who's in denial now!!" Remus commented: "You should cut daddy some slack if you're gonna be like that too."

"I...you can't resurrect the dead! No one's ever resurrected the dead!!" 

He said that to convince himself more than to convince Remus.

“And what if I can’t? Ghosts are basically like living people, aren’t they? You know that better than anyone.” the spirit pointed out.

Deep down, he really was starting to wonder. Could he really bring his dad back? Even as a ghost it would've been fine. Virgil wanted nothing more than to just  _ talk _ to him, just one more time, just to finally say his goodbyes right. Maybe Remus was onto something.

He took a deep breath: "Remus, can you really do that? Even just bring him back as a ghost?"

Roman gasped: "Virgil, no!!"

"I can't keep living like this, Roman!!" he snapped. He felt tears prickling his eyes. They felt scalding under his eyelids and he just wanted them  _ gone _ .

Roman flew in front of him, blocking his view of Remus: "Virgil, you remember what happened the last time you said that?"

"I don't care!!" Virgil cried, "Don't try and tell me you wouldn't give it a chance if you were in my place!! Don't lie to me! I hate lies!!"

And he really did. Lies and false hopes, that was all he ever got. And he hated them.

Roman didn't answer. Virgil hated having to subject him to such a horrifying mental image, but he needed to understand.

He stepped back in front of Roman: "Tell me what to do, Remus."

The demon was filing his nails into claws: "Sure. It's simple, really. You just have to read a passage from the book."

"Any passage?"

"No." Remus tried to grab the book, but Virgil wouldn't release his iron grip, so he settled for just turning the pages: "This one."

Virgil didn't even read through it. He read it out loud immediately.

_ "Banish my uneasiness, let my peace return to me. Let the Netherworld take the burden on my back, in exchange for my lost peace of mind." _

There was a somewhat warm glow to the book. Orange and yellow, like his parents in that one picture that Dad used to keep on his desk when he was still alive. Virgil felt an overwhelming sense of calm as the words sunk in and his tired body absorbed the comforting light. He closed his eyes. Hoped for a voice that he still remembered so well, a voice he would never forget no matter what, to tell him to open them. 

That wasn't what happened.

Instead, from just behind his left shoulder, came the sickening gurgling sounds of drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this was a long one.  
Yes, I made up that chant, no, I have nothing better.
> 
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments, darlings :)
> 
> Next time: A chapter that made me stand up and walk around for an hour afterwards to recover.


	4. ...and You Will Burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Very upsetting. Drowning and panic.

Virgil was too scared to look. Paralyzed, he stood there, clutching the book to his chest as the warm temperature in the room dropped to a deathly chill. Remus didn’t speak; instead, he simply pointed behind him as if to encourage him to look at the mess he’d made.

Very slowly, he looked to his left. A puddle was quickly forming on the floor beside him. 

He turned around.

Roman’s eyes had rolled all the way back into his head. A sputtering rivulet of dark water began to fall out of his gaping mouth with a horrifying gurgling sound as the blue tint of suffocation speckled his deathly pale complexion.

Virgil stood in shock for a moment, before his legs began to shake. He had always known that Roman was dead. He’d seen him float and pass through walls and possess people to make them dance around the dinner table but, in all the time he’d known him, Roman had  _ never _ looked like a corpse. Until that moment, of course. His white eyes were beginning to fill with tears as he tried to spit out the water in his lungs, to no use. No matter how much he threw up, there was more and more water still.

Virgil felt sick to his stomach when he realized it.

_ He’s drowning all over again. _

_ He’s reliving his own death. _

Virgil turned to the demon at his side: "What is that??"

"Oh, that is exorcism." Beetlejuice explained: "We call it  _ death for the dead _ ."

" ** _No_ ** !!" Virgil screamed, grabbing Roman's arm tight to pull him down, “Stop it!”

He let go as soon as the cold water splashed onto his sleeve.

Remus's smile was devilish at best as he shrugged: "Stop it yourself. You started it."

"I didn't know!!!" Virgil cried, less than a foot away from Roman, but too afraid to touch him. His soft hair now ran straight down his forehead and cheeks, his crown dripped rivers of black water onto the ground. It didn't even look like Roman anymore.

"I didn't know this would happen!!" Virgil tugged at his hair in a panic, "I didn't- I-" 

He wheezed.

There was no water in his lungs, but there might as well have been for how well he was breathing. He choked out a sob and a strangled scream when the water spilled on his head.

_ He's in pain _ .

Remus was infuriatingly nonchalant: "Awesome séance, Virge. You could be a professional exorcist, wouldn't that be great? I warned you two but hey, what does my expert opinion matter?" 

Virgil sobbed again. The corners of the book dug into his chest, but it made no difference for how much it hurt.

_ It's my fault. _

"You messed with the wrong book." Remus cackled, "Now look what you've done!!"

He did look. And he did see. 

_ It's my fault. _

He stood on shaking legs in the dead water that was already lapping at his ankles and sobbed breathlessly: "Just make it  _ stop _ …" he whispered, after several failed attempts, "I know you can, Remus, just-  _ please… _ "

_ My fault. _

The demon acted like he was considering it. It was obvious he'd had a plan all along: "Well…" he said, "I  _ would _ need a favour from you first, but…"

Virgil furiously wiped his tears away with his sleeve: "W...what is it? What do I...what do I have to do?" 

His hands felt numb. His blood wasn't flowing right anymore.

The tears didn't stop coming. He could barely understand his own words.

He thought he was hallucinating when Remus told him.

"Will you marry me?"

Virgil almost choked on his own tongue: "I...what???" 

"Will you marry me?" Remus repeated, calmly.

Seeing Virgil's face, he felt the need to specify: "It's a green card thing."

There were no words to describe how confused Virgil was. Was Remus foreign? What was he even talking about?

Luckily, the demon realized his confusion. Not so luckily, he wasn't tactful in the slightest: "Just think of it this way: if you marry me, I'll be alive again. I get to live, Roman gets to...kinda live, and you...well this kinda sucks for you, but hey!! Take one for the team, and you get to say you're married to the most handsome demon in town!"

Remus being alive and free was not a pleasant thought, but being stuck in the house with him and Roman's grieving parents was outright terrifying.

The water was rising higher and higher in spite of the fact that it should have started flowing through the door by then. 

It wasn't normal water. It climbed up the walls of the room and swirled around in the air like a cold, dense, wet breeze, with no regards to physics.

It hovered above him like an ominous supernatural storm.

What pushed him over the edge, though, was the strangled scream that came from the doorway. Patton was back.

"Okay, I'll do it!" he screamed, "Fine!!! I'll marry you, just stop it!!"

Remus gasped: "Really??"

Roman dropped like a ragdoll into his father's arms. The water finally stopped springing out of his mouth, but it had spilled away in rivers everywhere and flooded the attic by then. As soon as the spell was broken, it went back to regular water physics and spilled out of the attic and down the stairs. It splashed down on Virgil’s head, soaking him to the bone and leaving him gasping. The water was freezing. It was dead and rotting, just like everything else in the house since Remus had appeared.

"Oh, I have so many ideas for this!! You're never gonna regret this. I think it would suit you to…"

Remus kept rambling on his way out the room and down the stairs, but Virgil couldn't hear him. He felt like he was dying.

His legs finally gave out and sent him down to his hands and knees in the rotting water. It should have disgusted him, but it just made him feel cold. After all, he was soaked in it by then.

He didn't dare get close to his friend. 

Patton had taken the sweater off his shoulders and covered Roman with it, rubbing his arms vigorously in a futile attempt to warm him up. They all knew it was doing nothing and it didn't matter.

Virgil realized he hadn't stopped sobbing. In fact, it was louder now. 

Patton turned to him. Roman looked disturbingly numb and he hadn't said a single word since the exorcism had started. 

"I'm sorry." Virgil whispered.

Patton had an expression somewhere between concern, pity and straight up sadness: "Virgil, it's okay."

He clearly didn't know what else to say. He was torn, Virgil realized, between being happy that his son was okay and being upset that his living friend was marrying a demon.

Virgil stood up suddenly. Water fell in rivulets down his legs from where his hoodie was soaked: "I have to go." he said.

He felt completely numb.

"Virgil…" Patton tried, but he wouldn't let go of Roman just to chase him and they both knew that.

"I have to go!!" he repeated, running out of the room as fast as he could. He was completely soaked in cold dead water, but at least that hid his tears pretty well.

" _ Virgil _ !!" 

He didn't stop to hear what Roman had to say.

He didn't stop to hear what Patton told him to make him stop yelling.

He didn't stop to hear what Logan was asking him when he crossed him in the hallway.

Remus was downstairs, remodeling. At least it looked like it. It was more like building a haunted house inside a haunted house, really. He stopped running. It didn’t feel like running anymore. It was all the same.

Virgil didn't even care to look at Remus. He had one objective. He made a beeline for the front door: "Remus, I'm going out." he said, almost scared at his own numbness. He grabbed the doorknob.

"Woah there." His demonic future husband was beside him in a second: "Where do you think you're going, kid?"

Virgil still didn't look at him: "To see my dad."

"Why??" Remus asked, genuinely confused: "I thought you didn't wanna see him."

"I want his blessing." Virgil stared at the door, "I want him at my wedding. It's traditional."

It scared him how flat he sounded.

"Hmm…" Remus seemed to consider it. "I was thinking of something a little more unconventional, but that's fine. Provided, of course, you come back."

"Of course I'll come back." Virgil looked into his sunken eyes, "I hate lies. I promised."

"Maybe, kid, but I'll need a little more than that." Remus grinned: "So, you have one day. If you're not back by this time tomorrow, two of them are getting exorcised and you can deal with the third. Is that clear?"

Virgil didn't even want to picture that. Unfortunately, his brain did it anyway. He gulped and nodded: "Okay, I promise I'll be back before…" he glanced at his watch. 11:58 pm. "Tomorrow at midnight."

"You better." grinned Remus.

Virgil headed out without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this drained me.   
On so many levels.
> 
> I'm so sorry.
> 
> Please feel free to yell at me in the comments because I need to feel emotions again.
> 
> Next time: Something to recover from this.


	5. Why I Am What I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Towns alway seem much smaller when you're not alone and on foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hypothermia

It hadn't occurred to him that he had no idea where his dad might have gone until long after he walked out. Maybe because he was freezing.

He had been walking through town for God only knows how long, soaked to the bone, underdressed, on a chilly October night. Maybe, he bitterly noted, he wouldn't make it back to the house in time just by virtue of having frozen to death on the street.

_ No, I’m just being dramatic. _

_ Now’s not the time. _

He wasn't quite sure whether to laugh or cry.

Virgil just hoped his dad hadn't left town, or he'd never make it back at all. 

He wasn't quite sure when he'd started running. He only realized how fast he’d been going when his exhausted legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees on the concrete. He whimpered quietly. He was pretty sure his knees had been scratched to the point of bleeding in the fall, because the freezing chill lit up with burning pain. It hurt badly and, for just a second, he felt cold. After the pain subsided, he wasn’t that cold anymore. He  _ was _ sleepy, though. 

So very sleepy. He briefly considered just lying down and taking a nap, but whatever functioning part of his brain still remained told him to get up and search for cover immediately.

He crawled forward for maybe 10 seconds (time didn’t feel so real anymore) before he managed to stand again. 

_ I’m tired. _

_ Maybe I should’ve stayed home. _

_ I should probably take a nap. _

He fell again, less clumsily this time, against a tree. Its solid weight was comforting. A perfect place for a nap. 

Just when he was beginning to slide against the tree to sit down, he spotted a familiar face sitting alone on the porch of a nearby house.

Despite the many,  _ many _ empty coffee cups sitting on the floor beside him, Remy appeared to be asleep. He was swaddled in blankets, clutching his cellphone in his hands.

On a normal day, Virgil would have scoffed at how stupid it was to be asleep outside at night with valuables in plain sight, but that wasn’t his priority.

Holding onto the cold metal bars of the gate for support, he tried to attract the sleeping man’s attention. 

“Remy…” he mumbled. Too quiet. There were maybe twenty feet between them, too long a distance for him to be stirred by a whisper.

Virgil gulped and tried again: “R...Remy!!”

Still nothing.

_ This isn’t working. _

_ I have to make more noise. _

Before he could realize it, he was shaking the bars as vigorously as his tired body would allow. 

That was when he noticed.

The big tree in the yard (he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was) had dropped a considerable number of sticks and branches during the summer storms and no one had bothered to clean them up. Virgil was tired. Kneeling or crouching to pick up one of the branches seemed impossible to him. He felt that if he fell, he wouldn’t get up again.

Still, he had to try. He decided to try sliding down the bars without ever letting go of them until he got Remy’s attention. Slowly, he let himself fall to the ground, keeping as much of his body as he could in close contact with the gate. 

His stiff fingers finally reached a stick that was thick enough to make sound and light enough for him to lift. Biting his lip to fight off the drowsiness, he raised the stick.

** _Clang!_ **

Thankfully, Remy was a light sleeper. He gasped, nearly falling out of his chair. He looked  _ exhausted _ . His glasses were still on, but Virgil didn’t need to see his eyes to know they had big livid bags under them. 

Not that it mattered. Virgil didn’t even realize he’d dropped the stick until he heard it clatter on the ground. The immense relief he felt upon the completion of his task left him even more drowsy than before. He decided he could take a nap now. He wasn’t alone on the street anymore and he couldn’t go any further.

He sat with his back against the gate, snuggling into his damp hoodie for comfort, and closed his eyes.

Well, before the gate slipped away from behind him, that is.

He mumbled a confused protest that was probably supposed to be a  _ come on man, I was comfortable _ , but didn’t sound anything like it. And then, something really warm.

He shuddered in surprise as a burning hand stroked his cheek and then his forehead.

“ _ Ow _ …” he lamented. 

He hadn’t felt the warmth of a living human being in days, he realized. Warm skin felt so weird to him.

Remy had wrapped him up in his blankets and helped him to his feet.

A wall of hot air hit him like a truck when they finally crossed the threshold to the house. Half an hour before, he would have loved to be in a warm place, but now he just felt like his whole body was burning up, which, to be fair, it probably was. He whined a bit when his skin began to tingle and itch with the blood that was finally starting to flow back into his hands. He groaned in protest again.

_ Maybe I should have just stayed outside. _

Remy was remarkably good at the whole nursing thing for someone who looked so utterly incompetent. He’d been very careful in getting Virgil warm and had immediately helped him change into dry clothes. Virgil quickly started to feel better and a whole lot worse.

On one hand, he was gradually recovering from his cold-induced haze, so he could think and feel a lot better. On the other end, that also meant he could feel all those wonderful shivers and chills that indicated a fever, plus the burning heat of his blood finally starting to flow back into his veins. It hurt more than he’d expected.

Remy had scolded him for walking outside like that ( _ Jesus Christ, Virgil!! Did you cross over the bridge or under? _ ), but had otherwise been nothing but careful and gentle with him. Virgil was currently nursing a Sleeping Beauty mug full of hot tea (it burned his fingers, but damn did he need the warmth), swaddled in blankets on the couch. The sweater Remy had given him was ridiculously fluffy, too.

There was something strange about the house, he thought. Not a bad kind of strange; all the cartoon and movie gadgets were actually kind of cute, but it just didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like Remy’s place at all. He imagined if Remy had been allowed to decorate a house all on his own it would’ve had an entirely different, Instagram-y, nowhere-near-nerdy aesthetic. There was a hint of abandonment that he never would have expected from something that looked so comfortable and well-lived. It was eerily reminiscent of the Maitlands’ house. He set the mug down, absent-mindedly.

He only snapped out of those first cohesive thoughts when he saw Remy dial the familiar number of the hospital.

“Don’t!!” he yelled, snatching it out of his hands. 

Remy was surprised, to say the least: “What the hell, Virgil?”

He regained his composure almost as quickly as he’d lost it: “Virgil, I know you don’t like hospitals, but this looks like some pretty serious hypothermia and we really should get that checked out.” He tried to get the phone back, but Virgil wasn’t having it: “No, Remy, I can’t!! We don’t have time!!”

“What are you talking about??” the poor man sighed, “Of course we have time. Now if you could give that back-”

“No.” Virgil shook his head, “No. Just...trust me on this one, okay? I really don’t have that much time.”

Remy still held his hand towards him: “Well, you seem healthy enough to argue and snatch people’s phones away, so I guess it can wait. Can I call your dad, at least?”

Oh, right. His dad. That was the whole reason he’d left. 

He shamefully handed Remy the phone back, but not without a warning: “If you call an ambulance, I  _ will _ run back outside.”

His tutor/future stepdad raised his hands in surrender: “I trust you’ll make good on that.”

Virgil watched closely, confirming that he was indeed calling Dad and not the authorities.

The phone only rang once before Damien picked up.

_ “Remy. Any news?” _

“Uh, yeah.” Remy glanced at Virgil beside him, “You might wanna come home. Like, right now.”

Damien’s voice would have been indecipherable to a stranger, but they both knew he was anxious out of his mind:  _ “Did you find him?” _

“Yes.” Remy nodded as though Damien could see him. There was an audible sigh of relief from the other side, but it was short-lived:  _ “Is he okay?” _

Remy looked at Virgil with a  _ get-ready-for-the-storm  _ glance before answering: “He will be. That much I can tell you.”

_ “Why? What happened to him?” _

Remy took maybe a second to answer, but it wasn’t quick enough for his liking.

_ “Remy, what happened to him? Where was he?” _

“Kay, first of all.” the man huffed, making one of those sassy hand gestures that Virgil used to roll his eyes at: “I could tell you if only you let me talk.”

_ “Sorry. I’m just… nevermind. Just tell me.” _

Virgil was not expecting Remy to be as direct as he was.

“He came home about half an hour ago, half dead from the cold and barely conscious-”

_ “ _ ** _What?!?_ ** _ ” _

“Let me finish. So I took him inside and warmed him up and he recovered way faster than should be reasonably possible so now he’s apparently well enough to yell at me and try to hit me for being honest.” Remy finished, easily thwarting Virgil’s attempts to smack him in the head.

“You’re the worst, Remy.” the boy hissed.

“Haters gonna hate. Anyway, I really do suggest you come home before he murders me, Dee.” 

_ “I’ll be there in ten.” _

“Perfect. Ciao!” Remy hung up.

Virgil sat back down, defeated but not remissive: “What the fuck, Remy?”

“Language.”

“No one cares. Why would you do that??”

“Do what?”

“That!!” Virgil yelled, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the phone, “Why’d you tell him so bluntly? You couldn’t make it a little easier on him? Jesus!!”

“So you don’t want to hurt his feelings.” Remy grinned.

That caught him off-guard.

“I- uh… no?” he sputtered: “Remy, where are you going with this?”

“Nowhere in particular. But hey, while we’re waiting, we have a good opportunity to talk.”

_ You’ve gotta be kidding me. _

  
  


Remy was the last person Virgil would reasonably expect to be a therapist. He didn’t look or sound anywhere near professional. Or empathetic.

Well, to that Virgil would say:  _ well damn, I’ve been wrong before _ .

“Look, Remy…” he sighed: “Can it wait?”

“Not really.”

“I just… I have a few questions to ask you.”

“Mhm. Go on, then.” Remy crossed his arms.

“One: where even is dad?”

“Oh!” Remy snapped his fingers: “Right. He went to the police station because those dicks weren’t treating your case seriously enough.”

“Well, no wonder.” Virgil mumbled, “What did he tell them,  _ hello officer, my son is currently trapped in my now haunted house with a demon and a family of ghosts _ ?”

“No, not really. We told them you were stuck in there with a dangerous individual.”

“That makes more sense.” Virgil nodded, “But they couldn’t get in?”

Remy looked at him questioningly: “Virgil, they got in easily.”

“Then what-”

“They found nothing. You weren’t there.” 

Virgil sat there for a moment.

“What…” he stuttered, “What do you mean I… they… what do you mean I wasn’t there?”

“Not only were you not there.” Remy added, “Some of your stuff wasn’t there either. And they found your goodbye note.”

His blood froze: “My  _ what  _ now?”

“You don’t know anything about that?” Remy looked just as surprised, “Virgil, you left a note saying you ran away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say nothing about the house.
> 
> So yeah, Virgil's fine now :)  
I have never suffered serious hypothermia, only very minor cases. The description is based on those+ research on hospitals' websites.
> 
> Please comment because it makes my day and I know you want to yell at me. Come on. It's okay, that was the intention.
> 
> Next time: Remy is a sweetheart and I will fight you on that.


	6. Why I Do What I Do/ Truth is in Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never know what's going on with someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The usual mentions of death, hypothermia and kidnapping, talk of teenagers running away from home and bad parenting. Scarring and stress-induced self-harm.

He wasn’t sure he’d heard that right.

“I…” he stuttered, “Remy, I d… I did no such thing.”

“Yeah, Damien didn’t buy it either.” nodded Remy, “But the cops did. You know how many teenagers run away for a while? They have maybe two people on the case. Maybe. If we're lucky.” he huffed, “It’s sad how little attention they paid us. They somehow found out your relationship with Damien wasn’t the best and that ruined everything, because this happens way too often for this world to actually function. Basically, people suck sometimes. So when there is an actual emergency, no one knows. It definitely didn’t help that he was so adamant to march in there and tell them to speed it up. You know he sucks at feelings."

“Jeez.” Virgil commented.

"It also didn't help that he had no DNA evidence to prove you were his son." Remy picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

"Oh yeah, there's that…" Virgil muttered.

“Yeah. So that’s the situation now.”

“Ah, one more question.”

Remy seemed curious and terrified at the same time: “What is it?”

“Whose house is this?”

A shadow passed over the man’s face: “Ah. Well, technically it’s mine. I haven’t come here in a while.”

“Why not?” Virgil hugged his knees.

“Well, uh…” Remy stared at the long forgotten mug sitting on the coffee table, “It doesn’t feel like my house, ya hear?”

_ You have no idea, buddy _ , he thought, but he just nodded.

“This stuff isn’t mine.” he admitted, “But I don’t want to take it out.”

Virgil thought for a moment. The conclusion he came to made him a little sick.

“Did a friend of yours live here?” he whispered.

Remy nodded: “For a while, I lived here too. But it really only felt like home when he was around. After that, it just felt like intruding.” he shrugged.

“After…”

“After he died.”

Virgil froze: "Oh, I didn't-"

"You didn't know, yeah, well, I didn't tell you." Remy shrugged.

_ So that's what he meant by "processing my grief in a healthy way".  _

_ I didn't realize it. _

_ How did I not see it? _

_ He's just like me. _

An awkward silence fell on the two, but the atmosphere in the room was way too heavy for it to last.

"Any other questions?" Remy asked, in a clear attempt to distract himself.

"Well, uh…" Virgil scratched the back of his head, "Question number 3 was  _ what possessed you to become a life coach _ but I feel kinda stupid now."

"It's a pertinent question." Remy shrugged.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. It ties into question number 2, if you catch my drift."

Virgil gulped: "Ah. Well you don't have t-"

"He was a therapist." Remy simply said. Virgil was baffled. It really was that easy to get him to talk about it.

"Best therapist I've ever met, if you ask me. Most unique, for sure." the man continued, "We became friends after he helped me get out of a bad relationship by talking about Steven Universe of all things!"

Remy laughed. There was a bitter aftertaste to everything he said and did, but he wasn't actively avoiding the topic at least.

"Mh." was Virgil's only comment.

"You ever watched it?" 

"Yeah…" Virgil admitted, "So many times. My friend Thomas was a big fan, so we always watched it together." 

He smiled a little. He'd have to tell Thomas all about this mess at some point.

"Yeah, I watched it a few times too." Remy nodded, "And you know what? I never saw the appeal until I watched it with Emile." 

"No!" Virgil smiled.

"Yes!" He laughed again: "He was so enthusiastic about it and I was sitting there like  _ cool.  _ And that's how it was for the first few minutes. After that, though…" His lips curved into a little smile: "Oh man, I don't know how he did that, but the way he jumped and squealed and sang along to the opening every time got me kinda invested. The way he talked about it made me enjoy it a lot more, if that makes sense."

"It does." Virgil smiled, "I never liked vanilla, but dad's cakes were the best, so…"

"I know you're not talking about Damien right now…" Remy commented, "Last time he tried to bake something-"

"He almost set the kitchen on fire, yeah." Virgil laughed.

Remy pulled a strand of hair away from his face (he still had a noticeable bedhead from before), thinking. Finally, he continued: "So yeah, that's why I'm caught up on Steven Universe and why I'm a life coach, or therapist, or whatever you wanna call it. And you know what?"

"What?"

"The more I do this and the more I respect Emile for doing this for so many years and still being so enthusiastic about it." he sighed, "I was exhausted after a week."

Virgil cracked a smile: "Sometimes you find a person like that."

"I don't know how he did this for so long!!" Remy laughed again.

"Well, to be fair, I don't think he lived with his patients in a haunted house." Virgil pointed out.

"Excellent argument." Remy agreed.

"Yep. That adds a layer of difficulty, I'm sure." he nodded, snuggling a little more into the blankets. It was a miracle he wasn't burning with fever by then. 

"Oh yeah." Remy nodded, "You guys are a real challenge."

"I know I am…" Virgil muttered.

"Boy, do you think your dad's any better?" Remy rolled his eyes with a fond smile, "I'd go so far as to say he's more difficult than you."

"Careful there." Virgil warned, "He might come in at any moment.

"Not until I open the door, he can't." he pointed out. 

"Fair enough."

"Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

"I-" 

Remy was interrupted by insistent knocking.

"Rude." he commented, but he rushed to the door anyway.

Virgil froze. The conversation with Remy had been so pleasant that he'd completely forgotten to prepare his speech for when Damien arrived.

_ Dammit Virgil, this is  _ ** _not_ ** _ the right time to procrastinate. _

He was out of time.

Remy wisely got out of the door's way as soon as he'd unlocked it.  _ Wisely _ , because Damien wasted no time in throwing it open, sending it right where Remy would have been if he hadn't had the sense to move. The latter was clearly displeased, but didn't say anything. It would've been useless. All of Damien's attention was on his son, and it would've been both anticlimactic and cruel to claim it for something so unimportant. Virgil, once again, couldn't say anything. He just kicked the blankets off his legs and ran into his father's arms.

He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed him. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d truly been among the living. Not until he felt how his dad’s chest was warm and comforting and moved with each breath. 

It was when he heard the sound of his heartbeat echo in his ears that he knew.

_ This is real. _

  
  


It took Virgil way too long to realize that he was pressing the top of his head right against dad's irritated scar and, even when he did realize, Damien didn't let go of him. 

Until he did.

Virgil could see he’d been scratching it. It was a bad, stress-induced habit that Damien had picked up at a young age, scratching his left cheek, and it had never stopped. Not even with the injury that should have made it painful to even  _ think _ about scratching it. Virgil gulped. The scar looked awful. It was an angry red, irritated, and the skin had clearly been split in a few places. He must’ve been scratching at it furiously for it to get that bad.

_ It’ll never pass if you don’t leave it alone _ , Remy had warned him a few days earlier.

Dad held Virgil by the shoulders.

"Where have you been???" he asked, with that face that was clearly supposed to be concerned but just came off as angry instead. Virgil was always confused by that face. Everything was putting him on the spot.

"I- um…" he fell silent after that brief stutter, trying to find the best way to explain to his dad that he'd been at home the whole time, hanging out with a demon and a family of ghosts.

"Virgil, where were you?" Damien made a new, but equally terrible, attempt.

Thankfully, Remy was somewhat better at not giving kids an anxiety attack: "He told me he's been at home."

"How??" 

It was a legitimate question, of course.

"I looked the place up and down and he wasn't there. The _police_ searched the house." Damien pointed out, "How could he have been there the whole time?"

"Dad, um…" Virgil's voice was soft, due in part to his hypothermia and in part to his raging anxiety, but it got his dad's attention, "You remember that guy that came out of the soup bowl?"

"I…" Damien scratched the back of his neck: "Of course."

_ Better be direct in this case _ .

"He's a demon."

That was not the right thing to say. To be fair, it was very ambiguous.

"It's okay, Virgil. He's not here now." Dad tried to comfort him, probably not realizing he was serious.

_ Just be direct. _

"No dad, I mean an actual, bona fide demon from the underworld."

_ Maybe not  _ ** _that_ ** _ direct, Virgil. _

" **What** ??"

_ Yeah, that's just about the reaction I expected. _

Remy snorted.

"Hypothermia isn't funny, Remy." Dad reprimanded, "We should take him to a hospital."

" **No** !!!" Virgil grabbed him by the sleeve: "No, dad, no. I have to be back home by midnight."

Dad ripped his hands off his shirt: "Are you crazy??"

_ I expected that too _ , the cynical part of his brain offered. To be fair, it had a point. The other parts, meanwhile, were buzzing with activity, trying to find a way to convince the adults he wasn't crazy and he really needed to go back. He had never wanted backup more than at that moment.

_ Roman would back me up _ , a part of him lamented, while another sarcastically noted that  _ oh yeah, he'd totally back you up after you almost killed him a second time and betrayed him twice. _

_ They wouldn't be able to see him anyway _ , the logical part of his brain concluded.

"Virgil…" Damien's voice snapped him out of his trance. His dad knelt in front of him.

_ Oh no.  _

_ Oh no. _

_ He's doing the thing. _

_ That thing where he has a stupid theory and sticks with it too. _

"Virgil, the man you were just talking about. Where is he now?"

_ So he's going with the kidnapping theory, then. _

"At home, dad. Where he's always been."

"Virgil, please…" Dad sighed, "Please, try to remember where he was hiding you. I'll call the police as soon as possible, but I'm gonna need you to tell me-"

"Dad,  **seriously** !!" he yelled. 

Damien went quiet.

"You saw them too." Virgil continued: "The Maitlands and Remus."

"Who?" Remy interjected.

_ I never thought I'd be so grateful to have Remy backing me up _ .

"The people on the stairs and the guy who came out of the soup, respectively." Virgil replied.

"Ah, those guys." nodded Remy.

He believed him!! 

_ Thanks, Remy. _

"Remy, you are not helping." groaned Damien.

"Aren't I, though? I think Virgil's got a point."

"Remy!!" Virgil flinched when dad stood up in obvious irritation: "You are not helping!! My child's been kidnapped and suffered hypothermia. And  _ you _ didn't call the police  _ or _ an ambulance!! And now you're humouring this, and I-" 

Damien sank into the couch with a sigh: "And I had a point, I swear…"

"Dad…" Virgil interrupted: "If I can prove that I wasn't lying, do you promise not to call the authorities until after all this is over?"

Dad didn't answer, but he nodded at him to continue.

"After everything is over, I promise I'll go to the police, the hospital, wherever you want. I promise. I swear on my life." He joined his hands to his chest in a begging gesture: "Just please, please humour me until midnight. Then I'll do whatever you want."

Damien was silent. He stared at the ground as if it had all the answers he'd been looking for carved into it. 

"Fine." He conceded, softly.

Virgil felt the weight of his worries being lifted off his chest. There was still hope. Now he just needed a plan.

"But…" Damien continued, "You're staying close to me the whole time. I don't care what you're doing, you are not going anywhere without me until we sort this out. Is that clear?"

Virgil nodded vigorously: "Yes! I promise."

"Good." Dad rubbed his temples in an attempt to soothe the headache that was finally catching up to him after the three stressful days his son had been missing.

"Uuuh…" Remy slid into the conversation: "Is this a bad time to say that I believe Virgil because he had a very detailed book on the afterlife in his pocket which did not get wet in the slightest despite Virgil himself being soaked to the bone?"

" _ What _ ??" Damien and Virgil both looked at him, one with questions and one with answers.

"I forgot I had that…" whispered Virgil. Potential brain damage or not, forgetting it so many times was outright embarrassing.

"Wait a second…" he added, realizing something, "Did you open it?" he asked.

"It was already open." Remy shrugged, "But yeah, you could say that.

How was that even possible? He was sure he'd closed the book before putting it in his pocket. Then again, most of his memories from the near exorcism to when Remy had found him were blurry at best. Maybe the living could open the  _ Handbook _ with the right tactic?

He decided to leave that can of worms for another day.

The book lay open on the coffee table. Virgil picked it up gingerly: "I have an idea." he said.

Dad's face clearly spelled out  _ not again _ , but he elected to ignore it. "Remy, is there any chalk around here?"

"I mean…" Remy shrugged, pointing at the blackboard in the corner: "Take your pick."

There were at least seven different colours of chalk there. Virgil just picked the purple one. He wanted to make sure it stood out against the soft pink of the wallpaper.

"What are you doing?" asked dad, suspicious.

"Drawing a door." he answered, making sure the opening he was making was big enough for them to fit and hoping against all hope that it would work.

Dad looked unimpressed, to say the least. He seemed to be reconsidering his promise.

“I swear I’m fine, dad.” Virgil assured him, reading the page over and over to make sure he had the instructions right.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Damien’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

Virgil knocked three times on the bidimensional door.

“Virgil, seriously, what is that supposed t-” dad objected. Or tried to, before he was interrupted by the unearthly green glow that came from behind the now slowly opening door.

"Wow." was all Remy could say. "I can't say I expected that."

"Me neither!!" Virgil laughed in relief.

_ I'm not crazy _ . 

"What the-" Damien stood up so suddenly that he knocked the chair over, "What the hell is that??"

“Hah!!” Virgil turned to him: “I did it!! It worked!!”

“I can see that, but  **what the fuck** ???” yelled Damien. 

Remy lost his cool laughing. 

“There is nothing funny about this whole thing,  _ Remy _ .” the poor man hissed.

His indignation did not have the desired effect. In fact, it only made Remy laugh even harder.

Damien was  _ not  _ happy. 

Virgil, on his part, was paying their bickering no mind. 

The door was completely open at that point and the green glow that shone through it bathed the room in an otherworldly light. It made a stark and disorienting contrast to the soft and gentle pastel colours of the house. Virgil ran his hand along the improvised doorframe. There was something beautiful back there, he just knew. His hands felt the cool breeze on the other side. 

_ I want to go there. _

He stepped in, unnoticed.

_ So pretty. _

The breeze was so pleasant.

_ Just a few minutes. _

He took a few steps in the void before him.

_ The door is right there. _

The only thing in sight were some indistinct figures in the distance.

_ I wonder if Dad’s over there. _

_ He's close. _

By the time he finally realized dad and Remy were calling for him, the door had shut between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOI  
The reason this chapter has two titles is because it was originally two chapters that I decided to put together because the first one was too short :)  
So um...hope you enjoyed this super long chapter.
> 
> Why was the book open?  
I don't know, you tell me :)
> 
> Please do leave comments, yell at me for this chapter, I deserve it :,)
> 
> Next time: The Netherworld.


	7. Cradle to the Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Netherworld is not empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/warnings: So much Death, mentions/references to suicide, OCs and random people

Remus hadn’t lied about the Netherworld: it was empty. Really empty.

The endless black void all around Virgil made him feel like he was standing at the bottom of the deepest ocean. And he was completely alone.  _ Just like Remus said _ .

He froze when his senses came back to him.

“I broke the promise…” he whispered. He grabbed his hair: “I broke the promise. Shit!!”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” commented someone behind him.

Virgil flipped around to see a girl. She looked very young, no older than him at least. Her white nightgown, pale skin and blond hair formed a stark contrast with the dark blood that had spilled down her blue lips and dripped sluggishly down her chin. It looked disgustingly coagulated and sickly purple. 

_ Poison _ , he thought, biting his lip in discomfort.

“Who are you?” he asked. 

She waved: “Name’s Elsie, hi. A better question would be why you’re here.”

“Oh, um…” he twisted his sleeve nervously: “I… I don’t know.” he admitted. It was a blur. He remembered opening the door and then really, really wanting to get in.

“Ain’t that a bitch.” Elsie commented.

_ I was not expecting that kind of language from her. _

His gaze was caught by distant movement.

“What’s over there?” he asked, pointing at the only thing he could possibly be pointing at.

“Oh, that’s the check-in.” she answered, “I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“Why not?” 

“Well, you’re alive.” Elsie shrugged, “They don’t want living people over there.”

“Ah.” he bit his lip.

“Also, don’t stay here too long. Big mistake, that.” she added, “Time passes differently here.”

“Differently how?”

“Real damn fast. And if you’re alive, lemme tell you, you are going to feel that.” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” she fiddled with the laces of her gown, “First, you get really tired. Like you’ve been walking for hours without pause. That’s ‘cause you have. Like I said, time’s fast here.”

He nodded nervously.

She continued: “Then you get thirsty. Then you have to sit down because your legs won’t carry you anymore…” 

She spoke with the far off look of remembrance: “Then you’re stuck here. They won’t let you in there, either.” she added, pointing at the check-in desk in the distance.

Silence fell.

“Is…” Virgil bit his lip hard, “How do you know that?”

She shrugged.

He gulped: “Understood.”

Elsie watched him with sunken eyes. “Let me tell you something as a parting gift.” she said.

“Yeah?” 

He couldn’t look her in the eyes. She wasn’t like the Maitlands or even Remus, she was dead, very dead, and very obviously a corpse. Her eyes were terrifying: grey, dull and sunken in. A walking  _ memento mori _ .

She spoke from behind him: “If you’re breathing, go home.”

When he turned, she was gone.

_ Good talk _ .

If Elsie had known him at all, she would've known not to tell him what not to do; there he was, walking in a straight line to the check-in thing. It wasn't so much that he hadn't heeded her warning as that he had no idea how to get back home anyway and she had disappeared before he could ask her. If those people at the check-in really didn't want him there, they'd send him back. Right?  _ Right _ ?

He started to change his mind when he spotted some of the...uh... _ people _ at the desk.

A girl, with the handle of a knife sticking out of her back. A man, pale, sickly and thin, with a bottle of pills in his pocket. Another man, burnt to a crisp; a woman who was nursing a nasty, infected snake bite; a young man with his limbs mangled in a great fall.

_ That could have been me. _

A lady stood next to the big gate that apparently led to the Netherworld proper. She was busy smoking a cigarette, whose smoke poured back out the deep cut that ran across her throat. Virgil suddenly felt the need to loosen his collar.

A woman sat behind the counter, looking bored out of her mind. She was reading a very old magazine (it was dated 1965), nodding along to a beat on the old 1930s model radio. Her skin was an unhealthy shade of grey and green, her obviously fake neon pink hair was pulled up in an intricate ponytail, her nails were more like dark red claws at that point. Virgil could see the head of a sash ( _ Miss A... _ ) poking out from the edge of the desk: it was a tall desk and Virgil was not a tall boy.

Cursing his height and his crippling anxiety, he stood quietly in front of the desk, waiting for the lady to notice him. She didn't.

_ Time is precious _ , he remembered. His legs were already starting to shake a bit.

Biting his lip, he finally managed to mutter a tiny "Excuse me?"

She must not have heard him, because she turned the next page without a care in the world. The spirits sitting in the waiting room were staring at him, which certainly didn't help any. He gulped and tried again, a little louder this time: "Ex...cuse me...miss?"

The lady finally glanced over the magazine. Not seeing anyone, she moved it to the side and looked down. Her eyes widened when she saw Virgil: "Oh!!! Sorry darling, I didn't see you there." she apologized. She had a thick Spanish accent.

That was the worst part done. Now that he had everyone's attention, he just had to speak, right?  _ Easier said than done, when you can barely speak to living people. _

"Are you lost, sweetie?" she asked him, leaning over the counter to look at him more closely. She was probably giving him the treatment reserved for children, he realized.

"Um...yeah." he admitted.

Now, what he should have said was  _ I would like to get out of here _ , but what came out of his mouth instead was "I need to find my dad."

_ Wait, that's not it. _

_ But… _

_ He'd know what to tell me. _

_ He always knows. _

The lady at the counter squealed in sympathy: "Oh, sweetie, I think we can manage that. I am going to need a couple things to let you in, though."

He remembered what Elsie had told him.

_ Maybe they haven't realized I'm not dead _ . 

"Name?" she asked, tapping a pen on the desk.

"Virgil Webb." he answered, truthfully.

"Age?"

"15 years old."

She gave him a sad look.

He gave the basic information (date of birth, a fake date of death, an even faker cause of death), which the lady took diligent note of.

"Perfect." she said, closing the book she'd been writing in: "Now if you'll follow me, I can get you to an employee and then you can ask them, okay?"

He nodded.

She stood from behind the tall counter and he could finally see the whole sash.

_ Miss Argentina _ .

What he also happened to see, though, were the deep red lines that ran sideways across her wrists. 

He froze.

Remus truly had  _ not _ lied about this place.

Admittedly, he hadn't taken him very seriously when he'd said people who committed suicide would end up working in customer service but, if all the employees there were like Miss Argentina, he could expect it to be correct.

Distracted, he didn't even try to stop her when she went to grab his hand. It was only after that he realized.

_ I have a pulse. _

Miss Argentina gasped loudly: "He's alive!!!"

The woman with the cigarette coughed in surprise. 

The waiting spirits stood in uproar (at least, those who could still stand) and Virgil ripped his arm out of her grip. He glanced at the big open gate next to the counter and did the only thing his panicked brain could conjure.

He ran further into the Netherworld.

The lady with the cigarette tried to grab him, but thankfully she was slower than him. She tripped on her thin high heels and yelled out something akin to “ **Security** !!” in the nasty, raspy rattle that was her voice.

He ran faster.

" ** _Wait_ ** !!!" Miss Argentina yelled after him, " **Don't go there, niño** !!!"

He didn't listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I COULD have gotten someone to play Miss Argentina, but she's too iconic (I like her) and there's a sore lack of female characters here. Same goes for Juno.  
As for Elsie and the other dead people, they're either ocs or random people c:  
I'm sorry this chapter wasn't very intense in action or emotional weight. I had to make some space in your hearts for Sunday's chapter... :)))
> 
> Leave comments and feel free to yell at me, it reminds me why I write angst.
> 
> Next time: Someone will use their damn words for once.


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Netherworld is empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death, scars, exhaustion and unconsciousness.

Elsie’s description was spot on, as he soon discovered. Running for 30 seconds felt like running for an hour without pause, and soon enough he was forced to stop. He stumbled a few more steps: “ **Dad** !!” he screamed.

_ He must be here somewhere. _

_ He must be close. _

_ If I scream loud enough, he will hear. _

Lies, all lies.

All he got from that was a sore throat and trembling legs. 

After what felt like forever and nothing, he stopped screaming.

Wheezing harshly, he fell to his knees on the ground, which resembled a lake of solid, shiny obsidian.

He stared at his own exhausted face in the black mirror below and gave a breathless sob. 

“Dad…” he whispered, “I need some help here. I can’t just…” he sighed, “I can’t just keep talking to myself.”

The Netherworld remained silent. Not even his voice talked back to him. It was too big to even give back an echo.

“Are you really here, dad?” he continued, “I mean, this place, it’s… huge. So big, so empty… it’s like the vacuum of space!!” he scoffed, “How am I supposed to find you here??”

He wished he had a rock or something to throw. At least that would make some noise.

It was at that moment that the realization came over him. 

He’s been denying it for too long. He’d ignored Remus’s explanations, Elsie’s advice, Miss Argentina’s warning.

There was no hiding from it now.

“It’s too big.” he whispered. “I could search for all eternity and never even see your face!!”

He punched the ground in frustration and immediately regretted it when his knuckles made a horrible crunching noise. He cried out in pain and his forehead brushed against the ground.

Turning to lie face up, he nursed his hand. It was hot and swollen and it hurt badly.

“Dad…” he whispered, “I need help.” 

Nothing.

“I wanna go home, but… I don’t know where home is.”

_ Nothing. _

“You always said life was a game. Well, I don’t wanna play anymore. Ever since you left, it sucks to play. What are the rules, dad?? There are no rules anymore!! They change every single day. How did you do this??"

** _Nothing._ **

“Everyone keeps saying I should let you go, but I just… I don’t want to. I’m not ready. I’m terrified that if I stop mourning you, no one will ever talk about you again. I’m scared, dad!”

**Nothing.**

Virgil stared at the silent void all around him. He realized he’d just assumed his dad was watching him. That was what everyone had told him.

_ You’re never alone, Virgil.  _

_ He isn’t gone, Virgil.  _

_ He still watches over you, Virgil. _

Lies.

Just like everything else in his life lately.

He found that, while he hated those pretty lies, he hated that painful truth even more. He wished he’d never gone to the Netherworld. He wished he’d never found out about the damn place at all.

He found himself longing for the ignorance of everyone's advice:  _ he's in a better place, you'll see him again, he's always with you. _

He stretched his arms out to the big empty: “Dad, I just need one word. One little word to know I’m not alone.”

Nothing happened.

“Come on, dad!” he shouted, “Is this really what you wanted for me??”

_ Go home _ , the void seemed to say.

_ I can’t _ , his soul cried back.

“Quit stalling!!” he screamed. A tear rolled down his cheek.

He stood on trembling legs.

“Can’t you hear me?? Dad,  _ please _ !!” 

The big empty remained silent.

“Dad, I’ve burnt all my bridges. I can’t go back. This is the endgame, and if you’re not here...”

He wheezed. His lungs felt like they were slowly being crushed.

His head spun and his stomach twisted and little spots floated in the corner of his eye.

_ I’m tired. _

He was reduced to a pathetic, scared child, blind from his own tears and his crippling exhaustion.

“Dad, I’m scared…” he whimpered.

Dark spots danced around in his vision.

He was at his limit.

Just as his legs finally gave out, he felt himself collapsing into someone’s arms. They squeezed him tight and held him close to someone's chest and they were so  _ warm _ .

The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the muffled sound of a racing heartbeat.

Sudden unconsciousness was nothing new for Virgil. It wasn’t as unpleasant as some made it out to be, either. He had fallen unconscious several times, after suffering from particularly bad panic attacks. And, after the hell that panic attacks were, after all the suffocating fear, after the struggle to breathe and the pain of violent sobbing, the comfortable numbness of unconsciousness felt more like a blessing than a curse. The problem with unconsciousness is that it never felt like it lasted very long. He usually woke up exhausted and dehydrated, with tear tracks still marking his cheeks. 

He had never been in a situation quite like that, however. 

He opened his eyes to the dark void of the Netherworld.

_ I’m dead.  _ was his first thought.

There was more, though. A voice. A body (warm, human,  _ alive _ ), arms locked around him to keep him safe. He grabbed the arm that held his left shoulder, squeezing its wrist tight.

He felt it.

A pulse. 

“Virgil.” Damien’s voice called, gently, almost as if he were afraid to hurt his ears.

He sighed: “Dad.”

He melted into the embrace (warm, soft,  _ loving _ ), too exhausted to hug him back. “Are you okay?” Damien asked, helping him sit up.

He looked so  _ guilty _ . It was almost scary. 

“‘m tired.” he replied, smiling drowsily. 

“You look exhausted.” Dad agreed with a soft laugh, “Come on. Let’s go home.” 

Damien stood up but, when he went to help Virgil, he was pushed away.

“Dad, wait.” the boy managed to mumble, though his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

“What?” dad asked, clearly in a hurry. His voice trembled a little. He was starting to feel the exhaustion too, Virgil guessed.

Virgil bit his lip. “I’m sorry.” he apologized, “I just wanted to find Dad.”

A shadow passed over Damien’s face: “I understand, Virgil, but we really have to go.”

“Do you?” he questioned.

“Do I…?”

“Do you really understand?” Virgil scoffed, “I mean, you have been avoiding the topic for seven months now!! That has to be a world record. Of unhealthy.”

Damien ran a hand through his hair to slick them back: “Is now really the time?”

“Yes.” Virgil insisted. “I’m not moving from here until you tell me, because I know you. I know if I waited for you, I’d wait forever. So let’s talk.”

Honesty felt great.

Dad looked conflicted. He clearly hadn't prepared his speech, and who could blame him.

Virgil sat still watching him.

_ He's that stubborn, isn't he? _

He sighed and looked down. That was when dad spoke.

"You know…" he started, sounding like he was choking on broken glass, "I think Nathan knew he'd be gone soon."

Virgil stared at him with wide eyes: "Dad, you…" he whispered. The rest died in his throat.

Damien continued: "He was getting worried. It wasn't like him. He woke me up one night, all sweaty and shaking and he told me that he felt it would be over soon. I…" he swallowed, running a hand through his hair. He looked so guilty: "I thought he was talking about our relationship. I didn't realize he…" 

He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to.

"You said his name." Virgil whispered.

"It was about damn time, too." Damien let out a shaky laugh, followed by a tiny sniffle.

The merciless silence around them felt less suffocating now. 

“I just…” Damien ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t want to tell you. Anything. I thought that would be better.”

"Better than what?" Virgil asked, scooting closer to him.

Damien sighed: “Better than admitting that…” 

He stopped for a moment.

“...that I was terrified.” he admitted.

A question lingered. “What were you scared of, dad?” Virgil finally asked.

Damien’s mouth twitched several times, as if he were looking for the right words to say.

"This is gonna sound selfish…" he mumbled, rubbing his forehead the way he did when he had a nasty headache.

"I don't care!" Virgil blurted out, maybe a bit too forcefully, "Just say it!!"

Damien flinched, but continued: "I didn't want him to leave me. Even worse, I knew if he did, he'd take you with him no problem. So I…"

He bit his lip.

"...I was...well I wasn't very nice to him about it." he forced himself to admit. "And now, in retrospect, that probably made things worse. So much worse."

"I remember you weren't talking much…" Virgil nodded.

"Yeah… and, look, Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm… sorry."

Virgil blinked. He'd been so mad at him that he wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for.

"For what?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"For everything." said Damien, nervously twisting his hands, "But mostly, I'm sorry that you had to find out what happened from the police."

Virgil looked away. That… was something he'd admittedly been hard on Dad for. He was  _ mad _ . He'd yelled at him over the phone in the backyard of Thomas's house while his friend stared in concern and completely undeserved guilt. Thomas had been the one to tell him that his parents would be alright and, when that had turned out to be false, he'd apologized to Virgil many more times than he'd ever expect someone to apologize for an honest mistake. God, he missed Thomas.

So yeah, he was really mad at Dad back then. But that was before he'd seen him. The phone didn't do his physical state justice. When he'd seen his now only father hunched over and with half his face covered in bandages, he'd instantly regretted being so mad at him for not calling him sooner. He hadn't seen the wound  _ before _ the doctor had allowed Dad to take off the bandages, but even then it looked...horrible. Angry, irritated, wrinkly skin that must have caused him more pain than Virgil knew he'd ever admit to. People had only been openly sympathetic to him when he still cried out seemingly at random from spikes of pain, and that was that. Once he'd  _ sorted himself out _ (a term that Virgil hated more than anything), some of Damien's """friends""" had thought it appropriate to start joking about it. Virgil found it disgusting, Damien laughed so he wouldn't cry.

He gulped. “It’s okay, dad.” he assured. He wanted to hear more. Dad was finally talking to him and he wasn’t going to let that slip.

Dad sank to the floor next to him, along with his heart. “There’s one thing that’s driving me crazy.” he confessed.

“What is it?”

Silence fell. Damien twitched in his search for the right words again. “I’m afraid that…” his voice dropped to such a soft, small whisper that Virgil had to lean in closer just so that he wouldn’t have to repeat something that was so painful to admit: “I’m afraid that…  _ he might have thought I was dead, too _ .”

The moment Virgil processed what he’d heard, he felt his stomach drop.

He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he was almost afraid to ask. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“It sounds stupid, I know. He called me that night. It was late."

"I remember." Virgil nodded, "I was in bed already."

"And I was about to go to bed too. Then he called me.  _ Damien _ , he said,  _ there's been an accident at work _ . So I asked him what was wrong."

Dad had to stop again. Every word seemed to drain the life out of him but, at the same time, his eyes sparkled with a tiny bit of relief after he'd repressed the memory for so long: "He told me that there was a fire, and he was stuck in a room.  _ Damien, I'm scared _ , he kept saying. But I didn't realize how serious it was, I...you know how your dad got too worried sometimes."

Virgil agreed.

"So I told him that I was on my way there. That as soon as they got him out, I'd be there to support him." Damien sighed and paused again, running a hand through his hair.

"And you did go there, right?" Virgil confirmed, "That was when you dropped me off at Thomas's."

"Yeah. As soon as I hung up on Nate, I called Thomas's mom to ask her if they'd have you over for the night. She said it wasn't a problem, so I dropped you off there."

Virgil nodded.

"Nathan… failed to mention a very important detail."

_ What was it?  _ Virgil wondered.

Damien sighed: "There were no windows."

_ Oh _ .

"He didn't...quite mention that until I got there." he said, "I called him back, he was even more nervous than before, I told him the fire brigade was already in the building and he said that it was getting really hard to breathe. That's when…" Damien gestured vaguely at his face: " _ This _ happened."

Strange as it sounded, Dad had  _ never _ taken the time to explain exactly how he managed to burn his face. Virgil sat next to him, listening more closely than he'd ever done in those months.

"I got… well I freaked out a little. I got too close and, well...to be fair, no one had told me there was a boiler room with dangerous steam machinery right next to me." Damien joked in a futile attempt to deflate the tension.

Virgil only realized he'd stopped breathing when his lungs began to burn. "Dad, I…"

"You didn't know, yeah. Sorry about that." Dad apologized. “So, the last time he spoke to me, well... “

He paused for a moment.

“The last thing he heard from me was screaming.” Damien whispered. His eyelids were batting furiously in an attempt to blink away the tears that were building in his eyes.

Virgil stood up.

"Virgil?" Dad raised an eyebrow in that familiar  _ what-are-you-planning-now _ face.

The boy smiled at him: "Let's go home."

Dad took a moment to smile back. "Alright." he said, producing a piece of yellow chalk from his jacket pocket: "Lucky for you, I came prepared."

"Well, thank god for that." Virgil laughed.

Damien put the chalk to the obsidian lake that was the floor there, ready to draw a door, but Virgil stopped him: "Dad, wait."

"What is it?" Damien looked at him with tired eyes.  _ This will be over soon, one way or another _ .

Virgil felt his eyes burning.

_ Don't cry now, Virgil. This is serious. _

"Pro…" he stopped. His throat shut in a painful grip. "Promise me…" he continued, just as soon as his lip stopped trembling.

"Promise me we can talk about him?" he asked, quietly, shyly, like a child asking for something expensive for Christmas.

Damien looked at him. He reached for his son's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

_ "Anytime you want." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter drained me.  
Also writing abour Thomas. Please never make me write anything with real people again.  
Nathan's name has meaning.  
I am so emotional that I've fallen into apathy.
> 
> Leave comments because this chapter was very difficult to write so… please? I need to feel emotions again :D
> 
> Next time: It's time to go home.


	9. Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety and supernatural weddings do not mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: None! Enjoy the break

What Virgil had failed to account for was how many hours he'd been running on fumes. 

So it was no surprise that when the door back was open and the strain that the Netherworld put on his body faded, he collapsed on the floor and didn't move for a few seconds. It was a momentary rest born of relief. That didn't make the adults any less worried when the possibly hypothermic and definitely exhausted kid fell and didn't get up, understandably. They fussed over him in a way that was… probably normal, but utterly ridiculous for this particular family. 

"I'm good." he assured them, but the way his speech slurred said otherwise. He felt better almost immediately after, though.

"Uuuuh yeah, no." Remy objected.

"I'm fine. Hey, what time is it?" Virgil asked.

Damien looked at his watch, whose arms had been spinning like a ballet dancer's while they were in the Netherworld: "It’s..almost 11pm???  _ How _ ???"

Virgil rose to his feet, iron deficiency be damned: "Time passes differently over there. We gotta go. Oh, and…"

He turned to face the adults' questioning gaze: "I'm gonna need a suit, a bouquet and a lot of trust."

Virgil had always been a schemer. Sure, his plans didn't always work out in his favour (i.e. the  _ possess people, if that fails summon a demon  _ plan), but at least the planning part was fun and somewhat satisfied his spiteful needs.

And  _ damn _ if Virgil was spiteful. Petty revenge fueled about 60% of his actions. Big revenge was a different story, though. Although, in context, the plan was probably more like petty revenge. Whatever.

Either way, Dad's wedding suit did  _ not  _ fit him. 

"This is taking too long!" he lamented, while Remy uselessly struggled with his hair (which hadn't been washed properly in way longer than should have been allowed): "We'll never be there by midnight at this rate!!"

"Will you stop moving so much?" grumbled Damien. His mouth was full of pins, which he was using to try and make the damn suit  _ fit _ already. Virgil mumbled an apology and tried to impose stillness on his nervous wreck of a body.

"Hope you like pink, Virge." Remy offered him a clumsy, improvised bouquet of pink and purple flowers, which he’d put together with the last living plants in the dying garden. Mostly wildflowers, but that was fine. A tiny glint of silver shimmered in the middle. “No florists open at this hour.” he shrugged.

"It'll work." Virgil nodded.

Damien took the pins out of his mouth for the specific purpose of yelling at them that  _ this would go a lot faster if you two cooperated _ .

Remy did not apologize, because he never did. 

The suit finally started to make sense on his tiny, scrawny, 15-year-old person. 

“Never thought I’d be married at 15.” he admitted.

Damien made a face: “Me neither.”

“How old is he again?” asked Remy.

“Like 2000 years old.” Virgil scoffed, “But I really don’t know how that works in demon years.”

“Ewwww.” Remy commented.

“Ssshhh, we gotta make this convincing.” Virgil laughed.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” mumbled Damien.

He was right. Still, they had a plan and they were gonna stick to it.

Midnight was  _ dangerously _ close when the house came into view. It didn’t escape Virgil how Dad gripped the steering wheel. None of them had gotten decent sleep in days and all of them were stressed to the point of migraines. Virgil clutched the bouquet to his chest until he felt the tip of the spit pricking his chin. 

_ Well at least I know it’s sharp. _

The house looked different at night, standing high and mighty above the town that cowered below it. The house ruled over the town.

The car pulled up in front of the house at 11:57 pm. 

Virgil sincerely hoped Remus was a demon of his word.

The house was darker than he remembered when he stepped inside. The wind still howled on the porch, the floorboards still creaked under his feet and the hinges still whined when he opened the door, but there was silence and darkness. The kind he’d never known to exist in the house. The moment he stepped inside, though, he drew a sigh of relief. The cold spots and the wet chill that shrouded the Maitlands were still going strong. 

“Oh, thank God.” he whispered, clutching the bouquet tighter.

“ _ I’m not that easy to get rid of _ .” the darkness replied.

Virgil’s heart jumped in his throat and exploded with several conflicting emotions he couldn't describe.

“Roman!!” he laughed. 

“The one and only!!” Roman dramatically stepped out of the shadows because of course he did.

Virgil could have cried.

_ I don’t even care if he’s mad at me. _

He wasn’t, as it turned out: “But seriously Virge, where the hell have you been?”

Weird. Roman looked almost concerned. 

"I've been with Remy and Dad." he assured, pointing at the two men who stood awkwardly behind him, "Don't worry about it."

"Really?" Roman looked skeptical: "You still got a pulse, right?"

Virgil blinked.

"Uh...yeah, pretty sure I do."

"Oh, thank goodness!!" exclaimed his friend, dramatically wiping his brow.

Virgil's eyes narrowed: "Why...do you feel the need to ask that?" 

"Oh, right!!" Roman snapped his fingers, "Yeah so, dad let slip that you could have died from going out alone, underdressed and soaked in October, so Remus got mad and we've been avoiding him for like two hours now. He's surprisingly bad at hide-and-seek."

"Ah."

"Yeah, he somehow managed to miss me dramatically standing in a dark corner but then again so do most movie characters." he shrugged.

"No, that's fair." Virgil nodded. "So where is Remus anyway?"

Roman gave the fakest grin ever: "Great question!! Smart inquiry!! And while that’s wonderful, Virge, I don't have an answer."

"I do." Remy intervened, pointing at the top of the stairs. They could just make out a figure.

Not for long. It was gone in a flash, flushed away by a gust of wind.

Virgil picked at the ribbon that held the bouquet together: “Yeah, I’ll bet  _ I do _ is exactly what he wants to hear right now, Remy. I should practice.”

He thought he was stating the obvious. Apparently not.

“ ** _What_ ** ??” Roman screeched.

He didn’t even realize how close to being accidentally stabbed he’d come there.

Virgil sputtered something that was probably supposed to be an explanation, but he could hear the sound of his racing heartbeat over his own voice, so maybe it didn’t come off quite like he wanted. 

“I didn’t think you were serious!!” whined Roman, “I’ve been calling Remus stupid this whole time!”

“Well geez, sorry!!” groaned Virgil.

“But seriously, you’re gonna marry him. For real. Do you hate yourself that much?” the ghost inquired.

“Do…” Virgil sighed, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

That shut him up.

All that was left was letting Roman in on his plan.

_ Now how do I do this? _

_ Oh yeah. _

_ Good ol’ self humiliation. _

Virgil twisted his sleeve nervously: “Hey, Roman?”

Luckily, Roman’s curiosity was easily piqued: “Yeah?” he replied, raising an eyebrow interrogatively. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Virgil mumbled. Then again, he was dressed up for his wedding. With Remus. By comparison, this wasn’t so weird. He opened his arms silently. To be fair, he had really missed his friend. 

_ Yeah, that’s what I’m going with. _

Roman didn’t seem to understand. 

_ Oh for the love of- _

“This is the only time I’ll ever willingly allow you to hug me.” Virgil hissed: “ I suggest you take advantage of that.”

_ I hate this. _

He could almost hear the gears turning in his little ghost brain.

_ I hate this a little less. _

“ **Oh** .”

_ There ya go, buddy. _

Remy chuckled.

“Hush!!” cried Roman, “I knew what he meant!! I just…”

“I am  _ this  _ close to changing my mind.” Virgil warned.

“**_Not on my_** **_watch, friend_**!!”

Roman wasn’t even done yelling by the time he was squishing his poor living and breathing friend. 

_ Is Patton the only spirit here who knows how to hug people without strangling them?  _ he thought when his supposedly incorporeal friend cut off his airways.

Shifting in his hold to breathe better, he leaned in close to his ear.

“ _ Trust me? _ ” he whispered, just loud enough for Roman, and no one else, to hear.

The small moment of silence that followed cut his breath out again.

Roman held him a little tighter: “ _ I trust you. _ ” he murmured.

The air he finally breathed had never felt so heavenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prinxiety subtext is through the roof in this one.  
I am not sorry :)  
They deserve love.  
Please do not marry demons if you can avoid doing so.
> 
> Please comment, let me know what you think, because it's almost December and 'tis the season for giving :3
> 
> Next time: Virgil can act.


	10. Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are still some things to wrap up before this wedding can get underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter!!!
> 
> TW: The usual mentions of topic such as death and underage marriage, but a bunch of fluff.

Virgil had, of course, thought about his wedding before. What kid doesn’t? What would he wear? What would his spouse be like? Who would he have near him on his big day? Those were all things he’d planned in his little fantasy world where everything worked out.

What he hadn’t predicted was having to trick his groom into marrying him without question or suspicion. Even less so when his groom was an actual demon. Well, to that he said:  _ my life is so goddamn weird, this might as well happen. _

Remus had shown up, eventually, with a very disgruntled Logan and an increasingly concerned Patton in tow. Virgil was very happy he could get it over with. Well… until he saw the mood Remus was in, that is. 

“You came back.” he simply commented.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Virgil twisted his hands nervously. Remus was more suspicious than he’d anticipated.

It became very clear very soon that he wasn’t believing a word they said.

“You did run out into the cold to get away from me.” he mumbled. 

_ Oh, he’s salty. _

“I wasn’t thinking!” Virgil protested, “I… your proposal was so sudden and I wasn’t gonna get married in a wet hoodie, thank you very much!”

“I mean…” Remus sighed, tiredly, “Roman was pretty adamant you weren’t coming back. He’s lucky I’m a demon of my word.” he added, glaring daggers at the poor little ghost and his parents behind him.

Roman laughed nervously.

“What??” Virgil feigned shock: “Roman, you are the  _ worst  _ wingman in the history of wingmen.”

_ This is so weird. _

Thankfully, his friend was a decent improviser: “Why, Virgil! That’s what friends do.”

Remus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He did  _ not _ trust them.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t mess with your fiancé?” Roman continued.

“You are on thin ice.” Virgil warned, silently thanking him for playing along.

When Damien  _ “”gave his blessing”” _ (amazing blessing too, fake tears and all), Remus’s signature maniacal grin returned for the first time in 24 hours: “Yeah, no. Not buying it. Time to die!!” he chirped, gleefully  _ pulling a knife on his father _ because this day was just too fucking determined to be awful.

Virgil saw red.

" ** _Remus_ ** ." he hissed, grabbing the stupid demon by the collar. The venom dripped from every syllable he spoke: "Put. That. Down."

Everyone froze on the spot. Virgil gave the collar a harsh tug and Remus dropped the knife: "Jesus Christ, kid." he commented, once Virgil had stopped choking him with his own shirt and dragged him far, far away from his poor confused dad.

_ Time to break out the embarrassing theater kid phase. _

"Is this how you would treat your husband?" Virgil scolded, "I took my time getting ready for this and you? You give me the cold shoulder, you're still in your normal clothes, you didn't put up  _ any _ decorations and to top it off, you attacked my father! What kind of groom are you?"

Silence fell.

" _ What the fuck? _ " whispered Remy, ever the tension breaker.

Virgil ignored him: "It took a lot of effort to get here in time, so you better get this wedding going right this second." 

His spiel continued.

He wished Roman's eyes would stop sparkling like that. With that whole dramatic scene, he had pretty much doomed himself to a life (and afterlife) of plays directed by Roman Maitland of all people. Dammit.

Remus, on his part, looked utterly shellshocked and extremely impressed, with just a pinch of what looked like shame.

Let it be known that Virgil Webb was likely the first person to ever make  _ Remus "Beetlejuice" Whats-his-surname _ look ashamed of himself. 

It didn’t last, sadly. Remus clapped his hands: “Alright!! Let’s get this wedding going.”

As he swaggered out of the room to go plan, everyone’s attention turned to Virgil.

_ Now I wish I’d frozen to death _ , he thought as his face flushed with so much blood that it burned.

Roman’s eyes looked like actual stars by that point.

“Not.  _ One _ .  _ Word. _ ” Virgil warned.

Roman just squealed.

“I’m warning you, Princey.”

“Y-”

“Not a word.”

“You d-”

“Not a single word, Maitland.”

“That was… impressive.” commented Logan, fixing his glasses

Roman took the opportunity to speak: “I  _ know _ , right??”

Virgil shushed them both, red in the face: “Sssh!! You want him to hear us??”

“No, but Virgil…” Patton put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, dropping his voice down to a whisper: “What are we supposed to do now?”

That was a legitimate question. He hadn’t planned that far.

“Play along.” he replied, “Whatever I do.”

“I can live with that.” nodded Damien.

“Not for more than five minutes, judging by your face.” remarked his fiancé.

Damien, as was his specialty, completely ignored it: “Should we go see what he’s doing?”

“You guys do that.” Roman intervened, “Me, I’d better get dressed.”

“Aren’t you dead?” Virgil asked, sensible as ever.

“Aren’t you fifteen?”

“Deception sometimes involves underage marriage, Roman.”

“I am so gonna take that out of context.” Remy murmured.

“Please don’t…” Patton whispered back.

“Oh, Virgil!!” Roman chirped, ignoring both of them: “Would you accompany me?”

“That’s just creepy, dude. On my wedding day?” Virgil snorted half-heartedly.

“I just wanna run my best man speech by you.”

“I never said you were th-”

“But I am though, so shush and help me out. Also your hair looks like you just crawled out of a tomb.”

“That’s not entirely inaccurate.” Damien commented.

Roman took the opportunity to drag Virgil upstairs: “There is a story behind that and I  _ will _ hear about it, but only from the man himself!”

Virgil stuttered a protest.

The last thing he saw before they left the room was Logan’s calculating gaze fixed on them. 

Roman’s unwavering bravado had faltered the second they entered their room. 

"Okay." he said, turning to Virgil, "I know you have a plan. Spill the beans."

Virgil looked around.

_ He could be listening. _

_ He's powerful. _

_ I can't risk that. _

"What are you talking about, Roman?" he laughed, putting on his best innocent voice. He glanced back and forth between Roman's eyes and the bouquet in his hands, hoping he caught the subtle signal.

_ Uuugh, I do not sound right. _

Roman seemed receptive, so he continued: "You know, Remus really isn't so bad once you get to know him. I mean, sure, he slipped up on the wedding preparations, but I'm sure he was just as nervous as me!!" he exclaimed, subtly lifting the strategically placed flower that concealed the skew. He watched his friends' eyes widen.

"Virgil, he's already dead." he whispered, too quietly for anyone to overhear, "That will never work. It'll just piss him off."

_ Trust me _ . Virgil mouthed.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Roman inquired.

He nodded.

"Virgil, promise me you know what you're doing."

"I promise." he murmured, so softly that any noise would have masked it.

Roman nodded.

It was he who broke that moment of quiet sincerity with performance, as usual: "Right, sorry for doubting you! I just wanted to make sure he wasn't… you know... forcing your hand or anything like that, right?"

"Awww, Princey, you don't need to worry." Virgil reassured him, keeping up the charade, "I'm old enough by now to know a catch when I see it."

Roman held back laughter: "That's debatable, but I'll take it."

"You question my judgement, Sir Singalot?" Virgil glared.

"All the time, but you gotta understand, my darling Stormcloud, that I take the liberty to question the judgement of anyone who's marrying a demon." Roman pointed out.

"You're treading on thin ice, Maitland."

"Am I still your best man?"

"What kind of question is that?" Virgil punched his freezing shoulder playfully: "Of course you are. Now let's go to the closet."

He made a beeline for the door, which closed shut right in front of him.

_ He really loves doing that, doesn't he? _

"Not so fast, Webb." Roman shook his finger like a bad impression of a disapproving parent, "I may occasionally lie about my intentions…"

"Occasionally?"

"Hush, you. As I said, while I did get you here to discuss your poor life choices, I do actually want to know how exactly you managed to, and I quote,  _ crawl out of a tomb _ in the space of 24 hours." The ghost sat in mid air, imitating the posture of someone sitting in an armchair.

"So," he continued, "You feel like telling me?"

Virgil finally gave up on trying to open the door: "You make it sound like I have a say in the matter."

"Well, you don't. Now, spill."

Roman hadn't said a word since he’d started his story, but he really didn’t need to. His face did all the work for him. 

Honestly, it was so much worse than being constantly interrupted. At least that would’ve given the story some much needed levity, but no, apparently that had to be the one time in his life and afterlife that Roman Maitland finally shut up.

“So yeah.” Virgil concluded, twisting his cuff nervously, “I went to the Netherworld.”

Roman leaned closer to him: “Is it... “ he went quiet: “Is it like Remus said?”

“Uuuuh…” Virgil’s eyes shot back and forth between the room’s corners.

“Is it??” the ghost insisted.

“K... kinda?” Virgil compromised, “There’s also a check-in.”

“A  _ what _ ?”

“A check-in.” Virgil repeated, “Security desk and all.”

“You’re kidding me.” 

“I swear I’m not. I’m probably in trouble with the authorities.”

“The  _ dead _ authorities.” Roman pointed out.

“What are you suggesting?” Virgil smirked.

“Can’t get in trouble with the cops if the cops are dead.” Roman grinned, jazz hands and all.

Virgil laughed from the heart before he could stop himself. His friend smiled proudly and for just a moment, everything was perfect.

It  _ was  _ just a moment, though. 

Roman's tinkling laugh was replaced in Virgil's mind by a blood-curdling gurgle; his puffy hair with dark, dripping locks; his brown eyes with white and soulless husks. It occurred to Virgil that they could pretend nothing had happened, they could laugh all they wanted, but it wouldn't change the fact that both those things were lies. On the other hand, he had no idea how to initiate the conversation.

_ Hey, by the way, sorry I almost killed you a second time? _

That didn't quite cut it.

_ Sorry I made a stupid decision? _

Honestly, that would have to be a bit more specific, with all the stupid decisions he'd made.

_ Sorry I did exactly what you told me not to do? Twice? _

Maybe it was more than twice, he really had not been nice to Roman's judgement. A stupid decision all on its own.

He realized that all his botched attempts at an interaction were apologies, so he went with the timeless classic: "I'm sorry." he blurted out.

Roman blinked: "Eh?"

"I'm sorry!" Virgil repeated, trying (and failing) to get his point across. There was a lot of subtext in that  _ I'm sorry _ that he was utterly failing to convey.

"For what?" asked a very confused Roman.

"Come on, man!!" Virgil whined, "Are you gonna make me list everything? Not that I don't deserve it, but come on!"

Roman blinked. One. Two. Three seconds of silence.

_ Oh, you stupid, stupid prince. _

" ** _Oh_ ** ."

_ There it goes. _

"Yeah." Virgil nodded.

"No!"

Virgil blinked: "What?"

"No, you are  _ not _ doing this right now. We've been over this." Roman groaned, gesturing wildly with his hands. Thankfully, Virgil had had practice with dodging them.

“Okay, but Roman-”

“I mean, seriously!” the ghost continued, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, love, but we have a situation here. We really don’t have time for your self-depreciation if we wanna get this going.”

“I know, bu-”

“And besides, your hair is unsightly.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Count Woelaf, but it had to be said.”

“Rude.”

“You did literally go to hell.”

“Netherworld.” Virgil corrected.

“Whatever, your hair looks awful. Sit down.”

“Roman, no.” Virgil shook his head, swatting his friend’s hands away from his hair, “Don’t touch me, man. I don’t have time. I don’t wanna. I don’t…” he sighed, “I don’t know. I’m sleepy. And very hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate?” Roman inquired, looking him up and down. 

His brow furled when Virgil couldn’t give him an answer.

“Well, that can’t be good.” he commented.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what the normal world to Netherworld quota is in terms of time.” Virgil mumbled.

“Clearly. Would you like to eat something?”

It was a casual question, but the subtext was clear:  _ you  _ ** _will_ ** _ eat something and if you don’t, and you collapse at the altar, I will have your head _ .

Wordy subtext, but Roman was very easy to read when he wanted to be. And very wordy himself.

Virgil sighed in resignation: “Yes please.” 

They walked down the stairs just as Remus was flying up them. 

“ ** _Make waaaaaaaay_ ** !!!” the demon cackled, barreling past them with an entire murder of crows sitting on his arms. The birds clawed at his neck, pulled his hair, scratched his arms. The boys dove for cover but, while Roman got away with a little stumble and a dignified scoff, Virgil wasn’t as lucky. He ducked with a yelp, gripping the rail for support when his foot slipped. Thankfully, he didn’t fall down the stairs. He did, however, lose his footing and awkwardly slide down a few steps, knocking his ribs on the first. 

_ Ow _ .

He got the feeling that his less fragile spirit friends didn’t quite realize how squishy their human was. Case in point, Roman just raised an eyebrow at Remus. Seeing as how no one had noticed the potential injury, Virgil hurriedly stood up to go downstairs: “Anyway.” he cleared his throat to get Roman’s attention. 

“Right.” the ghost scoffed, floating just above the rail. 

They made their way down to the kitchen, passing behind Damien and Remy’s backs. Remy turned to them, bringing a finger to his smiling lips.  _ He’s sleeping _ , he mouthed.

The boys nodded in understanding.

Virgil felt a knot in his stomach.

_ They’ve been worried sick. _

_ I could have called them. _

_ I could have made it better. _

His thoughts were interrupted only by Roman elbowing him in the ribs. He glared at his friend in annoyance. Roman gestured silently, though no less dramatically, towards the kitchen. 

_ Fine.  _ Virgil mouthed, waving goodbye to Remy.

The kitchen wasn’t empty, unfortunately. Less unfortunately, it was just the Maitlands that sat at the breakfast table. They were quiet. 

Patton waved at them as they entered. Or tried to, anyway, because Roman didn’t leave any of them time to do anything.

“ **Greetings, padre** !!” he yelled, making a grand swooping gesture with his arm that missed Virgil’s face by less than an inch.

All three immediately shushed him. 

Roman made a face, but had the sense to lower his voice: “Virgil’s hungry.” he objected, “That isn’t a quiet matter. Taking care of squishy humans is a loud matter.”

Virgil had  _ no _ idea what that was supposed to mean.

Patton and Logan didn’t seem as confused, somehow: they nodded quietly with a hint of a smile on their lips.

He felt a pang of jealousy at that inside joke he may never get.

Roman flew to his dad: “I have an idea.”

“Is it the same idea I’m having?” smiled Patton.

“It sure is!”

Virgil looked at Logan in confusion. The ghost offered no help whatsoever.

_ You’ll see,  _ he mouthed. Okay then.

The two were, quite rudely, kicked out of the kitchen. Logan shrugged and sat on a stool by the window.

“They’ll let us in soon.” Logan assured him.

“What are they doing?” Virgil asked. Not that he was worried, well, not any more than usual anyway, but it felt weird to just have them kick him out without explanation.

“I’m not supposed to tell you.” Logan shook his head with just the smallest hint of annoyance and a whole lot of fondness. 

“Ah. So it’s a surprise.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Logan spoke very neutrally when he was calm. It was...soothing, somehow. It made him feel like everything was fine, despite how decidedly  _ not _ fine everything was. 

As Virgil sat in front of him, a wave of dizziness hit him like a speeding train and he ended up falling rather than sitting on the chair. He rested his head against his arms on the coffee table. 

“Are you alright?” Logan inquired.

He only received a thumbs up as a response.

“If you’re unwell, you should rest somewhere more comfortable.” he insisted.

“I’m fine.” mumbled Virgil, resting his hot forehead against the icy surface of the table, “Just tired, that’s all.”

Logan seemed skeptical.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Virgil admitted, “Remy told me not to sleep until I’ve seen a doctor.”

“For your potential hypothermia?”

_ “Potential” is an understatement _ , Virgil thought, but didn’t say anything.

“You could say that.” he compromised. 

“Mh.” nodded Logan.

A question he’d had ever since the Netherworld burned brightly in his brain. 

“Hey, Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Virgil mumbled, picking nervously at the skin around his nails.

“Go ahead.” Logan agreed.

Virgil bit his lip. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Sure, Logan wasn’t as openly emotional as his husband or his son, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have feelings. He’d already seen just how big the impact had been on them, but he reasoned Logan was the best option anyway.

“Go ahead.” Logan repeated. He stared at him expectantly.

“Okay…” he twisted his sleeve: “Logan, how…”

He took a deep breath.

“Don’t be afraid to ask.” Logan reassured him.

Virgil leaned in close and spoke as softly as he could: “How... does it feel... being dead?”

Logan blinked.

He looked… surprised, maybe? Not upset, hopefully. 

_ Oh god, this was a terrible idea. _

_ What was I thinking? _

_ Now I’ve upset h- _

“Strange.” Logan simply said.

“Eh?” Virgil snapped back, shellshocked.

“It feels strange.” the ghost repeated, “Because you don’t really feel anything. It feels like…”

He stopped to think for a moment. “Floating.” he decided, “It feels like floating. You’re completely weightless. You can’t feel any part of your body at all, you don’t feel… tired, or hungry, even though you know you should be.” 

Virgil nodded quietly. Satisfying his curiosity didn’t feel quite as good when Logan seemed so uneasy.

Logan continued: “I don’t even feel this.” he admitted, brushing his fingers against the patch on his forehead, “I don’t really need the patch, but…”

He sighed and didn’t speak again.

Virgil knew it was rude to pressure him. His mouth apparently didn’t get the memo: “But?” 

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose: “But I can’t stand to look at it.” he admitted, quietly. “It’s unsightly. Unnatural. It never fades, never heals.”

Virgil nodded slowly. He let Logan vent.

“More than that, it’s a reminder, I suppose. I mean…” he made a long pause. “I’ve thought about this situation from every angle. No matter how I look at it, I couldn’t have been saved, no, I’m the  _ only _ one who couldn’t have been saved, because I was dead the moment we fell into the river. That’s fine by me, though. That’s not the problem.”

He didn’t elaborate. He didn't need to.

After his vent was over, Logan shut down entirely. 

He still sat with Virgil, but he might as well have been a stool for how much his presence was felt. Luckily, Patton and Roman came back almost immediately. Less luckily,  _ almost immediately _ feels like forever to a person with anxiety.

Even less luckily, Virgil had  _ no  _ idea what they were carrying.

It looked like a cute but somewhat disturbing plastic chicken, with tiny, soulless black dots for eyes and a crooked red beak. He looked at Logan for help. He offered none.

“We’re back!” announced Patton, just in case there were any doubts.

Seeing as how no one was gonna tell him unprompted, Virgil timidly asked what the thing was. It didn’t look so bad up close. It smelled amazing, too, though maybe he was biased on account of his biting hunger.

“Behold!!” exclaimed Roman, making gestures akin to those of a magician introducing his next number, “The Breakfast!!”

The capital B was obvious even in a verbal conversation with him.

Virgil curiously leaned towards them as they lifted the tacky chicken-shaped lid off a plate. It was awesome. The two madmen had somehow whipped up a full breakfast in maybe 5 minutes. Ghosts, man.

The  _ sweetest  _ ghosts.

_ Good Lord. _

The toast they’d made had a little smiley face of jam in the middle, the warm milk had a little chocolate heart on top and the cookies were arranged to form a flower. 

It screamed  _ third grade breakfast  _ in loud, sparkly, pink, cursive letters. 

_ You know what? _

_ This smells amazing.  _

_ I’ll take it. _

He was stuffing his face with cookies before he even finished that thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this. I know not much happens here, but I could not bring myself to cut out anything because I tend to intertwine information with dialogue.  
Also I needed a bit more human interaction after the Netherworld *shudder*  
And a Whole lot of fluff because...heh... trust me, we're gonna need it. :)
> 
> I just really love Roman and I love how he's perfectly able to be deep and insightful while still being a dramatic theater nerd????? I love him????
> 
> Leave a comment to give me the strength to write the finale :)  
I'm gonna need it.
> 
> Next time: The strangest wedding in history is about to commence. Gather round, and don't forget the rice!


	11. Two-Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dim the lights  
Pick up some rice  
Say something nice  
It's my day to shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack. And feels. But you knew that part.

Remus actually hadn't taken that long to decorate. He was taking _ forever _ to get dressed, however.

The Maitlands and the Webbs, plus Remy, all stood awkwardly in the living room in wait. 

"I thought he could shapeshift…" whispered Patton.

"Yeah well…" Virgil shrugged, pretending his increasing anxiety wasn't knocking the air out of his lungs, "He's a drama queen. Like Roman."

Ignoring the loud, dramatic gasp behind him, Remy stretched his arms: “Fashionably late to his own wedding, as everyone should be. Right, Damien?”

“That was one time.” Damien mumbled.

“Yeah.” scoffed Remy, “‘cause you only got  _ married  _ one time.”

“Being late was entirely out of my control.”

Virgil picked at his bouquet. 

Remy really wasn’t that bad.

Which meant that now Virgil felt  _ really _ bad for being so hostile to him. After he’d nursed him back to his regular  _ well-enough-to-pretend-I'm-fine _ state, after he'd opened up to him, encouraged him, mediated for him and Damien. It occurred to him then that Remy had been doing his best. It really wasn't his fault he'd ended up in their messed up family. 

That was when he noticed something.

The ring was missing from Remy's finger.

And he was going to address it. He really was. At least, before Remus burst in.

He was...something. He wore a puffy, ridiculously glittery black dress, with big, dramatic sleeves, intricate sick green embroidery and at least a dozen veils of varying shades of green, black and grey, held high by those same crows that were pecking at him not an hour before. The decolleté was tasteful, strangely enough.

And he looked oddly good in it.

“Huh.” commented Virgil.

_ I mean, it could be worse coming from him. _

“Nice dress.” Remy whistled.

“Thank you!!” Remus chuckled with one of his little gestures: “Sorry it took so long, I wanted it to be perfect. Wouldn’t want Virgil to kill me.” he added, looking the boy directly in the eyes with a knowing grin.

Virgil’s head spun. 

_ He knows. _

By the look on their faces, everyone was having the same thought.

Remus, though. If he did know, and Virgil didn’t dare doubt that for a second, he wasn’t showing it beyond that little moment they’d had.

It was at that exact moment that his old friend, anxiety, made itself heard. It sank its claws into his gut and twisted, pulled, tore and bit his insides apart. He felt his lungs collapse when Remus made his way over to him.

Before he could stop himself, he backed away and blurted out: “Wait!!”

“What is it, Virge?” Remus asked, batting his eyelids innocently.

_ What am I doing? _

_ Stalling won’t work. _

** _Nowhere to run._ **

_ Can’t leave. _

_ Can’t hide. _

_ Can’t back out. _

He turned away.

_ I don’t want to do this-  _ ** _just do it you coward-_ **

_ No. _

_ Nononononono-  _ ** _don’t touch me._ **

His gut gave another cruel twist.

_ What if this doesn’t work-  _ ** _of course it won’t work, he knows._ **

** _Bad plan._ **

_ It’s my fault. _

** _Run._ **

_ Please help me. _

** _Run before he kills you first._ **

_ This isn’t fair. _

** _I deserve it._ **

His head spun.

Muffled voices behind him. What were they saying?

_ Is he okay?? _

_ Move, let me talk to him. _

_ Let him breathe, let him breathe!! _

_ Virgil!! _

****  
  


He gasped.

No air.

No energy left.

His lungs hurt. His legs hurt too.

Wait, he wasn’t standing.

Someone was holding him by the shoulders. Not tightly. Gently, kind of...massaging them.

It felt nice. Even though their hands were freezing.

“Virgil.” they called, and he looked at them. And he saw him.

Roman was running his hands along his shoulders in the most soothing gesture he could make while still leaving him space to breathe.

“Are you alright?” Roman asked.

** _No._ **

“Yes.” he whimpered, straining to get that one little word out from the crushing weight on his lungs.

His friend looked skeptical.

“Do you need some water?” he heard Patton ask from his left.

** _Yes._ **

“No.” he shook his head. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. Can we…” he wheezed when his lungs suddenly collapsed for a moment. He gulped to calm himself down: “Can we get on with it?”

He realized he was shaking like a leaf under Roman’s hands.

Remus shook his head with an oddly serious expression: “It would go smoother if you could stand on your own, Virgil.”

He couldn’t tell whether that was meant to be reassuring or sarcastic.

_ When in doubt, go with the worst option _ , he always said, so he tried to stand. Only to be immediately pushed down.

“Oh no you don’t.” frowned Roman. 

“Take a break.” added Remus, nodding in agreement.

His eyes were stormy.

Virgil gulped: “No, it’s okay. I can stand.”

“Virgil, you looked like you were going to  _ die _ .” Roman pointed out, “Trust me, I would know.” he added, quietly sneaking a glance at his parents.

He frowned, trying to get up once again: "I'm fine!! This happens all the time."

"That doesn't mean it's okay." Logan interjected.

"No, but…" Virgil sighed, looking for a way to explain himself, "But… I can deal with it. Right now, waiting will only make things worse. Trust me, I know me."

"Are you sure?" Damien asked him.

It was heartwarming, but annoying. Yes, he was sure. Obviously. It's not like he'd fallen on the floor without even noticing.

He looked around at their faces. They ranged from worried, to resigned, to indecipherable (like Remus).

"I'm sure." he simply nodded, "Let's do this."

There was no real officiality to the wedding. By extension, there was no officiant either.

The logical conclusion in Remusland was to give the job to some...thing. It was a tiny little thing that Virgil could not have described to save his life; although, if he had to try, he would have said  _ long-dead horned gecko in a suit _ . That was the best he could come up with.

Remus insisted to walk down the “aisle” (the living room) together. 

_ Okay, whatever. _

He felt fear snaking around his chest again. And if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that fear packed a serious bite.

He glanced up at Remus. There was no sign he’d caught on to their plan. He wasn’t even looking at the bouquet.

He took a deep breath. He really hoped Remus didn’t know. If he did, it was a death sentence.

_ One step. _

He glanced over his shoulder at the Maitlands. Logan nodded in support.

_ Two steps. _

He caught Patton giving him a smile.

_ Three steps. _

Remy gave him a thumbs up.

_ Four steps. _

Roman frowned.

_ Five steps. _

His father looked him in the eyes.

_ You’ll be fine _ , he mouthed.  _ I promise _ .

For just a moment, he believed him.

He didn’t listen to the lizard’s raspy voice as it spouted off whatever sermon it had prepared.

It didn’t matter, anyway.

This was going to end very soon. Either way it went, the Netherworld would likely be just a little bit fuller by the end of the day.

When he heard Remus say “I do”, he had no idea how much time had passed. The serpent of fear was biting harder than ever, the venom of doubt was coursing through his veins.

Everyone turned to him when the lizard asked him to pronounce his vow.

“I…” his lung gave out again. “I do.” he blurted out.

Before he could process what was going to happen next, Remus screamed.

Virgil snapped back in alarm. His ears stung with a multitude of sounds, loud,  _ too loud _ , then muffled, then silent.

Remus’s body made a thud as it hit the ground.

Body.

A  _ physical  _ body. 

The lizard had vanished, as had everything Remus’s magic had conjured. The black and green dripped away from the walls to reveal the soft pastel blues and yellows of the Maitlands’ home; the crows flew away through the window into the clear morning sky; bugs and creatures fled from the light. 

The dress had disappeared too. Remus was in the same clothes he’d always been in. From under his collar, for just a moment, Virgil caught a glimpse of purple on his pale neck.

And then it was over.

Remus gasped for air, shooting up from where he was lying.

Virgil took half a step back in fear before he remembered what he was supposed to do then. He felt expectant gazes piercing his back

But Remus looked dazed, confused. Like someone who had woken up from a long sleep in a completely different place than they’d been before. And, goddammit, Virgil  _ understood _ that. 

The lost expression in his eyes was all too familiar to him.

Virgil stood where he was. He hoped, in some deep and desperate part of his soul, that he could save everyone. The rest of his soul told him that that was never how it went. It had never been. He’d learned that pretty quickly.

He didn’t even realize he’d offered Remus a hand until the ex-demon grabbed it, using it to stand up. He didn’t even look at Virgil. His eyes were fixed on one of the windows. Virgil followed his gaze. 

A little robin was hopping on the windowsill. Its beak tap, tap, tapped on the wood to scrape up some crumbs. 

Remus was completely enraptured. 

“I...wow…” he whispered. His chest moved slowly up and down with deep, hypnotized breaths. “I’ve never stopped to look at the birds.”

Virgil took a step back.

_ I can’t do this. _

“It’s beautiful.” the newly-living Remus grinned. Not his usual maniacal grin, just a wide, happy, toothy smile. “It’s beautiful.” he repeated. “It makes me..happy.”

Virgil turned away from him with a choked sob. 

_ This was a bad idea. _

_ I’m too weak. _

“What’s wrong?” asked a voice behind him.

He pressed a hand to his mouth to smother the whimper that was trying to make its way out.

“Virgil, what’s wrong?” Remus asked once again.

Virgil still didn’t turn.

“Why are you sad?” the voice whimpered, “You’re making  _ me  _ sad!!”

He felt a tear slip down his cheek.

_ I’m going to die. _

He glanced at Roman, beside him. His friend’s attention, though, was on Remus.

No one was moving. 

“Virgil!!” Remus screeched, and Virgil flinched. He wasn’t just sad anymore. He…

“Virgil, stop making me sad!!” he complained. His voice went dark: “Stop making me sad. Now… now you’re… Now you’re making me  _ angry _ .”

Virgil realized too late that those last few words were spoken closer and closer to him. 

He was still clutching the bouquet in his shaking hands.

** _Don’t touch me!_ **

He spun around in terror, aiming the spit in the general direction of Remus. 

His hand stopped short in its tracks when the demon knocked his weapon out of the way and out of his grip. Virgil stood frozen.

The fury in his eyes was pure and unbridled, with no rhyme or reason to it.

And he was completely unarmed against it.

_ I’m going to die. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CATCH ME TRYING TO REMEMBER HOW THAT SCENE WENT  
Ooooh boi. I'm sorry I keep changing the number of chapters. This chapter was originally joined to the next, but that was like… way too long and intense so I decided against it.  
Next chapter is the last chapter, the last one is the epilogue :3  
And then I'll work on the missing moments+ an all new AU that is...straight up Prinxiety. I'm not sorry.
> 
> Leave comments, because I want to hear your theories and I want to know what missing moments you'd like to see :3
> 
> Next time: Finale.


	12. Gran Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where seven stories end, and one begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Gore and a lot of feels. I mean it.

When Remus lunged for him, he was sure that it was the last thing he would ever see. At least, with his own, living eyes.

That was why he'd shut them tight.

Someone grabbed his shirt.

He squeezed his eyes shut. 

_ This is it. _

Instead, there was a squelch, and a gasp, and then someone was dragging him away, and he was falling, falling…

** _Crack_ **

His eyes flew wide at the unmistakable crunch of bone beneath his head. He heard someone hiss in pain just behind him.

Remus only came into focus when he was about to fall over Virgil. 

A choked scream just behind him.

A weight on his chest.

Something under his head.

Something slick drip, drip, drip, dripping over him.

Blood? Blood.

Pain.

_ Who? _

Confusion.

_ What? _

Heavy.

_ Go away!! _

He pushed Remus off himself. Blood. It  _ was  _ blood. So much. There was a tear in his shirt. His green sash stained red.

He shut his eyes again.

_ Who’s behind me? _

_ What’s under my head? _

His eyes snapped open and his head snapped back and the snapped arm under his head flared with pain.

“ **OW** , be careful!!” cried Remy.

Remy.

_ His arm. _

_ I broke his arm. _

_ I... _

_ I BROKE HIS ARM!!! _

He sat up as quickly as his exhaustion would allow: “Remy!!”

“Oh, I did  _ not  _ think that through....” the man groaned.

“Yeah, no kidding.” commented Roman. He stood a little way away, staring at them with wide eyes.

Logan was patting his husband’s back. A good call, seeing as how the poor man looked like he was going to pass out. “There’s so much blood…” he whispered.

Virgil almost tripped and fell when blood-soaked hands reached for Remy.

He almost fainted when he looked up to see they belonged to his father.

He looked at Remus. Then back at Damien.

“Did you…?”

His voice died in his throat before he could finish the question, but it didn’t matter.

“Yes.” Damien admitted, letting his gaze fall to the kitchen knife that lay abandoned behind him. 

He didn’t need to say anything else.

He turned back to Remy: “Are you okay?”

All he received in response was an eyebrow raise.

“Okay, that’s fair.” said Damien, “I’ll take you to the ER.”

“Yes please.” groaned Remy.

Virgil examined his arm. It was  _ definitely _ broken. It was limp and it was swelling fast. But how had he managed to get his arm under Virgil’s head? 

Logan kneeled next to them. “May I take a look at it?” he asked, politely.

Roman offered his much appreciated support: “Oh!! Oh!! His hands are really cold. It’s like an ice pack. Virgil knows.”

“Cool, ice me.” Remy shrugged, but his discomfort was obvious.

Virgil stood by as Logan examined the injury.

“Oh, this  _ is  _ like an ice pack. Nice.” Remy chuckled, then hissed in pain when Logan poked at the bruised skin of his arm.

Virgil bit his lip. "Remy?" he called.

"Yeah?"

"Why was your arm under my head?"

Remy scratched his head with his good hand: "Well, I mean… have you seen where you fell? You would've cracked your head open. No offense, Mr Maitland."

"None taken."

Virgil's heart sank: "Oh. I'm...sorry."

"For what, for falling? Come on, Vir-  _ OW _ be careful with that, please." Remy whined when Logan made an uncharacteristically careless movement.

He straightened his back and continued with his  _ cool uncle _ routine: "I'd take you over my arm any day. It's chill."

Virgil slicked his sweat-matted hair back: "Yeah, but you-"

"Ain't this a touching moment." croaked someone behind them.

They all turned to face the otherwordly green light that seeped from the door in the wall.

His first thought was that she looked familiar. It wasn’t until she took a long drag of her cigarette that he knew it.

The smoke from the cigarette poured out in swirls from the gash in her throat. 

“I’ll make this quick.” the ghost stated. “You!” She turned to Virgil: “Come with me.”

Roman stepped in front of him: “Uuuh...says who?”

Virgil pulled on his sleeve. “Netherworld security…” he whispered. He could feel the colour bleaching away from his face. 

The ghost woman seemed slightly offended: “I am not security. I am in charge of cleaning  _ your  _ mess.” she corrected, stepping over Remus’s body to reach them.

Roman did not move an inch: “Who even are you?”

She kept smoking. “My name is Juno. Satisfied?”

“No!!” growled his friend before Virgil could say anything: “What do you want with Virgil?”

The lady gave a long-suffering sigh, blowing smoke in Roman’s face: “Move, kid. And you!” she pointed over Roman’s shoulder: “You can’t just walk in and out of the Netherworld. What were you thinking?”

Virgil stood, raising his arms in surrender: “I...I know, I’m sorry.”

Her hand trembled so much that he thought she was going to burn herself with the lit cigarette. “ _ Sorry _ doesn’t cut it, kid. Do you have any idea how much paperwork goes into this?”

“I’m sorry…” Virgil repeated. His stomach sank. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He caught Dad and Remy exchanging a worried look in his peripheral vision. 

Juno sighed: “Is that all you ever say?”

He bit his lip.

“You’re in our records.” she continued, “According to which, you died two days ago. Seeing as how you’re clearly  _ not  _ dead, there is a pressing issue here.”

It was only when she said that that the realization seemed to dawn on everyone.

_ She wants me dead. _

Virgil was, obviously, not a stranger to death and the like. In fact, he would say he was more experienced than most in what death was like. There was a difference, however, between knowing and  _ knowing _ . 

It wasn't fair. After everything he and his loved ones had gone through to learn just how precious life was, it wasn't fair.

He'd made a mistake in going to the Netherworld. He hadn't regretted it before, because it had  _ finally _ gotten his dad to talk to him, but at that moment? He only  _ wished _ .

Juno tapped her foot impatiently: "I don't have all day. Come on."

He hung his head. There was no way out of this one. He couldn't fight the entire Netherworld bureaucracy. He saw movement in the corner of his eye then; it was only after he raised his head and looked, however, that he found those who could move had moved to surround him. 

Patton was the first to address the issue out loud, however: “Now, I’m sure we can figure something out here…” he attempted to compromise.

Juno shook her head: “No such luck. I have a job, I’m going to do my job.”

“He’s a child!!” Damien protested. 

“So is he.” she said, pointing at Roman, “Children are not immortal. But they sure as hell  _ think  _ they are.”

Roman scoffed, but remained silent.

“This is a mistake.” Logan objected, “Virgil had no idea that the information he gave was so relevant. For that matter, neither did we.”

“I don’t care.” Juno huffed, bathing them in foul-smelling smoke: “Not everyone understands rules. That doesn’t mean they don’t apply to them.”

She was right, and they all knew it. 

_ I see no way out of this _ .

_ No way except… _

“Okay.” Virgil murmured, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder: “It’s okay, move.”

His friend finally took his eyes off the ghost lady to look at him: “Are you crazy??”

“Virgil, what are you doing?” his dad asked, but it was a rhetorical question, that much was obvious. He’d said  _ what are you doing _ , but his eyes were saying  _ don’t even think about it _ . 

“It’s okay.” he repeated, hanging his head in defeat, “She’s right.”

“Virgil, no…” he heard Patton say.

“Virgil yes!!” he cried, “Those are the rules. What am I gonna do, fight the entire bureaucratic system of the Netherworld??”

He felt his eyes burn. 

_ No, don’t cry. _

_ You asked for it.  _

_ You have no right to lecture anyone. _

** _Don’t make them feel worse than you already have_ ** .

Juno took another drag: “I see you have  _ some _ common sense.” she said, “Come on, I’d like to get this done as soon as possible. We’re swamped today.”

The way she talked about death only convinced him more. 

_ That’s how it goes. _

_ She sees these things every day. _

_ Nothing we can do will convince her to let this go. _

He stepped around a stunned Roman to reach her. Or...tried to. Someone grabbed his arm.

He turned to look in his dad’s eyes and almost gave up every hint of resolution right then and there. The look he was giving him was up there with the one he had when he’d come back from the hospital with a patch over his face, in terms of how utterly  _ hopeless _ it was.

“Virgil, you can’t just…” he stumbled for words: “You can’t ju-” 

He had to stop when his voice cracked.

A new resolution bloomed in Virgil’s heart. 

_ I have to be the bigger person here. _

_ I can’t just leave. _

“You can’t just leave!!” Damien finally managed to say: “ _ Not you too _ . Virgil, please-”

His eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Virgil frowned, but held his stance. He reached out to grab his dad’s wrist, pulling it away from his arm. “It’s okay.” he whispered. “Dad, it’s  _ okay _ . There’s nothing you can do, and that’s  _ okay _ .”

“No, it’s not.”

“I pro-”

“Don’t.”

“You’ll find someone else. You have Remy.”

“I don’t  _ want  _ someone else!!” Dad cried: “You’re my son!!”

“And I love you. I love you so much.” Virgil choked out. “But there’s nothing w-”

“This is all very touching.” Juno interrupted, “But, like I said, I don’t have all day.” 

Virgil somehow managed to avoid any further attempts to reach him as he walked towards Juno.

“Virgil, do  _ not  _ go there.” Roman warned.

He ignored him.

“I’m serious!!” his friend cried.

Juno grabbed his arm impatiently.

“ ** _Virgil_ ** !!”

He closed his eyes as if that would drown out the noise of his loved ones trying to stop him. It didn’t. In fact, they only got louder. Everything got louder. Juno’s grip went from firm to unbearable, the voices around him went from loud to deafening, the light began to seep through the minuscule crack in his eyelids. 

He almost missed the indiscernible whisper that flew by his ear.

What he didn’t miss, however, was Juno letting go of his wrist. His eyes snapped wide open when a drop of something hot landed on his cheek. That something, at it turned out, was blood. Juno’s blood, to be exact.

She was grasping at her throat, pressing her hands to the gushing wound. But it was all for naught. The blood spilled down in a crimson river.

Virgil yelped, backing right into a stunned Logan, who thankfully had the sense to get him far away from the dying ghost.

Dying.

_ Dying ghost. _

_ Death for the dead. _

** _Exorcism._ **

An unearthly screech filled the room as Juno burst into a flash of green light.

He shut his eyes. Too bright.  _ Too bright _ .

The smell of smoke was the only thing she left behind.

Someone coughed.

“I’m telling you, if the blade hadn’t killed her, the cigarettes sure would have.”

A shrill voice. Familiar. Unmistakable.

But Remus’s body was still lying lifeless on the floor beside them.

“Yeesh.” Remus commented, stepping over his own corpse, “Didja  _ have  _ to go for the spine? That hurt like a bitch."

Virgil stared at him. “Remus?” he whispered.

“The one and only.”

“But how…?” Roman blinked as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Dead people become ghosts.” Remus shrugged, “Duh.”

“You seem to have taken death remarkably well.” Logan observed.

“Yeah.” the ex-demon scratched his head: “Turns out, being a human is awful. Should’ve listened to the emo.”

“Oh yeah.” Remy nodded, cradling his arm to his chest: “Human bodies suck.”

“We really should get that arm looked at.” said Patton.

“So… you’re not...mad?” Virgil asked Remus, shyly.

“Nah.” the spirit shook his head, “I’d rather chill for a bit. Maybe I’ll start painting. I feel strangely inspired. That’s what the emotion’s called, right?”

Roman laughed.

Remus did not.

“Oh…” Roman realized, “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Well, emotions are kind of a new thing.” the ghost explained, “I’m gonna need some help with th- Virgil?”

“Mh?” Virgil realized he’d been leaning against the wall.

“You good?” Remus inquired, “You look kinda…” He gestured at his face, “...pale.”

“Virgil?” Roman joined in, “Are you okay? Virg-  **Virgil** !!!”

That was the last thing he heard before he collapsed to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, I didn't forget about the hypothermia, the exhaustion, the dehydration...oh man I really whumped Virgil didn't I.  
IT'S OVER  
IT'S OVER  
I FINISHED THE MAIN STORY  
OH BOY  
I'm so sorry for everyone in this story. Except Juno.
> 
> Edit: I should say that I have never broken a bone in my life (though I did break some teeth), so if you have, or you're a doctor, and you find Remy's behaviour offensively inaccurate, I deeply apologize.
> 
> Please yell at me in the comments, I like when you guys call me out on my angst bullshit :) (which now has a body count, lovely) 
> 
> Next time: The epilogue. No, I can't believe it either.


	13. Epilogue (Jump in the Line)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: None. Enjoy the fluff!!

_ Beep. _

_ Beep. _

_ Beep. _

Sound.

_ Beep _ .

Annoying.

_ Beep _ .

He felt warm. Not the uncomfortable kind of warm, though; rather, the kind of warm that makes you want to crawl into a little ball of comfort and never move again. The alarm was starting to get annoying, though. He begrudgingly stuck one arm out of the covers to turn it off, only for someone to grab his wrist.

As his eyes flew open, the alarm got louder and faster, somehow. 

Wait, that wasn’t his alarm. His alarm was a song, not rapidly accelerating beeps.

“Virgil, calm down. It’s me.” said someone just beside him.

_ I know him. _

_ What was his name again? _

_ Remy. _

_ His name is Remy. _

He looked to his left.

“Morning, sunshine.” sighed Remy, lying back against his chair. The sunglasses were back on. Virgil was surprisingly disappointed when he let go of his wrist. 

He had... a lot of questions.

_ In order _ , he told himself.

He settled for: “How long have I been out?” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Remy reassured him, “It’s only been a few… well… a dozen hours.”

“A dozen h-”

“The doctor predicted more but hey, it’s good. How are you feeling?” he asked him.

Virgil took a moment to answer. “Tired.” he decided.

“Yeah, that’s fair. Doctors said exhaustion."

"What about the hypothermia?" Virgil inquired.

"Not to worry, my dear Virgil." Remy reassured him, sipping a coffee he definitely didn't have before: "It was a very mild case. You actually collapsed due to exhaustion that time. Although you were like…  _ really _ cold, obviously. Your fever went down pretty quickly."

"So what, can I leave now?" he asked, hopeful.

Remy laughed out loud: "No!!"

Virgil was soon debriefed on the whole situation.

Dad had gone to talk to the doctors (and been forced to rest after nearly collapsing from exhaustion himself), the Maitlands and Remus were still at home, for obvious reasons, and Virgil wouldn't be dismissed until the next day.

And Remy had a blank cast on his arm.

He showed it to Virgil with a frown: "Can you  _ believe _ it, Virge? No one has signed my cast."

It was an obvious ploy, and Virgil fell for it immediately: "I can sign it!!" he hurriedly offered.

Remy smiled. 

"If you want…" the boy added, quietly: "I  _ did  _ break your arm."

"Oh, would you look at that!!" exclaimed Remy: "I have a marker in my pocket!! When did this get here?" 

He slid the marker to Virgil.

_ Now, where do I sign this _ , he asked himself, tapping his lower lip with the cap of the marker.

He settled for a spot near Remy's wrist.

_ Sorry I broke your arm, dude. _

_ Those sunglasses are still dumb. _

_ Love,  _ ** _Virgil_ ** .

"Perfect." he nodded, finally letting Remy see what he'd written.

The man scoffed: "Sunglasses are fashionable, sis. Not that you would know what's fashionable."

"Uuuugh…" Virgil groaned: "You sound like Roman."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Whatever you say, friend."

"I love you too." smiled Remy.

Virgil stopped for a moment. He had one last question for Remy, but it just didn't seem like the right moment. Seeing as how Dad wasn't around, though, it may be the only moment he'd be alone with Remy for a while.

"Hey, Remy?" he finally asked.

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to ask you something…"

"Shoot." 

Virgil crossed his gaze for just a moment, then immediately looked away. "Where's the ring?"

Remy slapped his forehead: " _ Oh _ !!! Oh, we didn't tell you…"

“Tell me what?” 

“We broke off the engagement, like, two days ago?” 

Remy leaned against the chair, knocking back the rest of his coffee in one go.

Virgil stared in disbelief: “What?? Why?”

He had a less than pleasant theory: “Was it because of me?” he asked. He didn’t like that option. Just when he was starting to like Remy. “I-”

“Don’t worry.” Remy interrupted, “I broke it off because it was nothin’ good. Pure and simple.”

He shrugged and continued: “We were both the rebound romance. I don’t even like Damien. I mean, I do, but...ya know… in a  _ this is my stupid friend and I love him _ way. It would never have worked out, kid, trust me.”

Only slightly reassured, Virgil twisted the blankets on his chest. 

"Are you gonna live with us?" he asked, shyly.

Remy laughed: "Oh, honey. It's not that easy to get rid of me."

Virgil smiled.

When Damien came back, there was less talking than he’d expected. He appreciated it. Dad was pretty content with just staying there with him, Virgil didn’t feel like speaking.

The day went by pretty quickly. Eventually, Remy drove back home to sleep in an actual bed and to give the Maitlands and Remus the good news, since they’d found they couldn’t communicate through the phone. 

Late in the evening, after the last examinations for that day, Virgil finally fell asleep.

Just before he fell in sleep’s embrace, he heard someone whisper “I love you.”

He dreamt of warm sun and of homemade sweets that night.

**   
  
**

When they drove back home the next day, it was almost noon and Virgil was about ready to run home himself if they’d waited one more minute. He spotted Roman and Remus in the garden before they even got close to the house, waving frantically at Virgil behind the fence.

He groaned.

“Not looking forward to the hugs, are we?” Damien joked.

“They’re both boa constrictors in the shape of people.” Virgil mumbled.

“I’m sure they’re just happy to see you.”

“You try getting your ribs cracked by a bunch of ghosts, dad. Then we can talk.”

Dad scoffed: “Fair enough.”

When they pulled up, Virgil stumbled out of the car as soon as possible. He was dreading his imminent strangulation, but he couldn’t deny he’d missed all those idiots.

The moment he stepped through the gate, he was encased in the icy, constrictive embrace of his favourite recently deceased friends. Great.

Remus was the first to let go: “Virgil, you will  _ never  _ guess.”

“Wh...what?” he choked out.

“I made a  _ painting _ !!!” the ex-demon squealed.

Virgil just gave him a thumbs up to save oxygen.

Remus frowned: “Are humans supposed to turn blue?”

Thankfully, Roman listened.

The greetings went by...quicker than he’d expected. It might have been because he was too drowsy to actually listen to them, though. Remus dragged him to the attic as soon as he was able to.

Virgil had some trouble finding the painting, initially. It was smaller than he’d expect from someone like Remus, but then again, he  _ had  _ changed a lot from the demon he knew.

As he got closer, the strange shapes on the canvas began to make more and more sense. 

It was mostly dark, with strokes of green and black on the sides and a single, bright spot of light in the bottom right of the picture. Creatures he’d never seen, nor had any desire to see, swarmed the dark parts of the painting, with fangs and claws and tentacles to be feared. They dispersed at the light. Looking closer, he realized exactly what, or who, the light was. Just at its edge stood a stylized portrait of Remus, who extended his hand towards someone on his right, right in the center of the bright spot. 

_ Me. _

_ That’s me. _

He didn’t know what to say.

“Do you like it?” Remus asked, eagerly. 

He decided to say it how it was.

“It’s beautiful.”

He had no idea that Patton had made dinner until he walked into the fully decked out living room.

“I say…” smiled the ghost, “...that it’s time we had a  _ proper  _ Sunday dinner ‘round here.”

The food looked  _ delicious _ . Pastries full of ham, mushrooms and various vegetables, soup, steak and, to top it off, a perfectly baked chocolate cake. 

_ Welcome back, Virgil : ) _

“I...wow.” he stuttered, “Thanks, Pat.”

Patton lit up at the nickname: “Glad you like it, kiddo!! Now, what do you say we dig in?”

And so they did. Everyone, be they alive or dead, was invited.

Conversation was somewhat quiet between them.

Too quiet for Roman, apparently, who decided this dinner was missing something.

“I have an idea.” he said.

Logan shook his head at him, but his eyes were smiling.

“And you can’t stop me, Dad!!” the boy laughed.

“Oh, good heavens. My plans have been foiled.” 

Logan delivered that line with such monotony in his voice that Roman cringed: “We gotta work on proper inflection and tone one of these days.”

“Romaaaan…” Remus whined: “Hurry up, I wanna see!!”

“Right!” the ghost snapped his fingers. It was meant to focus, or so Virgil thought until he heard their ancient radio switch on.

“Oh, come on dude.” he snorted.

Remy laughed out loud.

“You really like your Belafonte.” he commented, listening to the music.

“What can I say, it’s catchy.” Roman shrugged. He moved in front of Virgil expectantly.

“Oh no.” Virgil shook his head.

“Oh yes.” Roman nodded.

“Come on, man…”

“Virgil Webb, will you-”

“I’ve had enough proposals to get old, Maitland.”

“I don’t care. Will you give me the honour of this dance?” Roman bowed, offering his hand.

“Doooo iiiiiit…” Remus whispered.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at the unlikely alliance. “I almost liked it better when you two didn’t like each other.”

“We still don’t.” claimed Remus.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Whatever!!” Roman interrupted: “Will you dance with me?”

Virgil sighed, scratching the back of his head. The adults were all smiling encouragingly at him. He decided to resort to his last option. 

“Roman, I…” he sighed, silently begging his dad to be quiet, “I can’t dance.”

Roman didn’t seem stirred: “But can you fly?” he asked.

Virgil blinked: “What?”

That’s when he felt a pit in his stomach and his legs leaving the chair below him.

Virgil could safely say that, for how much Roman loved floating, he didn’t expect him to be able to make  _ someone else _ float. But damn, he’d been wrong about Roman before.

He yelped when the tips of his toes couldn’t touch the chair anymore, frantically searching for something to hold on to. That something ended up being Roman’s arm. 

He heard people laughing below as the music continued. Patton dragged his husband into a dance and soon Remy dragged a stunned Damien behind them. Remus was just fine rocking out by himself, as it turned out.

“ _ Jump in the line! Rock your body on time-  _ ** _okay, I believe you_ ** !!” he sang along to the radio.

Looking on from the top of the hall, Virgil was grateful. Grateful that he was still there to see it all work out.

Roman seemed distracted, so Virgil turned his head away a little.

“Hey, Dad.” he whispered, “Are you listening? Do you see this?  _ I made it _ .”

He didn’t feel so alone anymore. Not even talking to his dad. It almost felt like he could hear him this time.

“I was on a mission.” he said, “ _ This  _ is what I left behind. It’s weird, isn’t it? A bit unconventional, I know.” he chuckled under his breath.

“But you know what, Dad?”

He held that thought when Roman held his hand.

“Look at this.” the ghost said, “We’re awesome.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna go home?” Roman asked. There was a note of resignation in his voice.

Virgil smiled. “Roman? Hey, look at me.” he said, turning to face his friend.

Roman timidly met his gaze: “Yeah?”

He didn’t think he’d ever willingly initiate a hug with a ghost, but hey. His life was weird. Roman held on tightly, but gingerly; suddenly, the height, the music, the cold didn’t matter.

Virgil leaned into the embrace and whispered into Roman’s ear.

“I  _ am  _ home.”

** _I’m home._ **

**   
  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY  
I'm emotional.  
My journey with this AU is not over yet, but my journey with this story is over.  
And I don't know how to feel about that. This is the first time I've been able to complete a story as long as this one and it's...awesome. It makes me think that I can write much more than I thought I could.  
The Docs file I've been using, though split in acts, was still so heavy it lagged :,)
> 
> On to the news!!  
Expect some more missing moments (finally), a new AU (probably in January, will keep you posted) and, if you want, a sort of...continuation/alternate ending? for the Beetlejuice AU. I was playing around with a very angsty idea that I ultimately scrapped, but if you'd like to read it… lemme know :)
> 
> And...nothing. Thank you so much for following me on this crazy adventure :,)
> 
> Leave comments because I'm in pain :3
> 
> I love you guys.  
Signing out,  
Fia <3


End file.
